


From What I’ve Tasted of Desire

by ninathena



Category: Original Work
Genre: 19th Century, Assault, Attempted Sexual Assault, Bisexual Female Character, Blackmail, Blow Jobs, Byronic Heroes & Heroines, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, Extramarital Affairs, First Time Blow Jobs, Fondling, Girls Kissing, Girls in Love, Hair-pulling, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Loss of Virginity, Multi, Physical Abuse, Praise Kink, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance, Slow Burn, Spanking, Undressing, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, historical fiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:35:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 37,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25525279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninathena/pseuds/ninathena
Summary: A young governess catches the misplaced resentment of a dangerous man.
Relationships: Original Female Character(s)/Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	1. All Great and Precious Things are Lonely

_Yorkshire, England, 1825_

“But I don’t understand. Why can we not go?”

“Mary, please. That’s enough.” Anna tries to sound firm as a governess should be, but it seems after all these years, this little hellion knows how to get away with acting however she likes.

“But we want to go, too,” pouts the girl, slumping low in her seat, arms crossed and brows frowning most unladylike.

“Speak for yourself,” interrupts John. Lounging in the window seat, book in his lap and sun gleaming off his blonde head, he looks downright carefree. “I don’t wish to go anywhere near that ball.”

“It’s not a ball,” Anna tries to correct, but Mary is turned in her chair, attention only for her brother, whilst John continues to swing his skinny leg along the side of his seat, seemingly all focus on his book. It seems she’s been quite forgotten.

Mary continues to turn till she’s on her knees, her small chair creaking beneath her. “But why, John? It’s going to be _lovely_. Isn’t that right, Anna?” she asks, peering over her shoulder at her governess for confirmation.

With a sigh, Anna gives up, coming to kneel beside Mary. “I’m sure it _will_ be lovely.” Anna helps the precocious girl from her knees, seating Mary in the chair properly, facing her. “But it is not a ball, poppet, merely a small party with some friends of your father’s.” She cups the girl’s pink cheek in her hand. “It won’t be any fun for you, I promise. Even I’ve no wish to go.”

“Well, of course you don’t want to go,” John speaks up, “you’re just a governess.”

She stares at the boy with no small amount of shock. And, she admits to herself, hurt. These children are her world, and the idea that they see her as lesser is painful indeed.

John sees the hurt there, cheeks warming as he glances from his book to Anna’s eyes then back again, unsure of what to do.

“That was _rude_ ,” Mary is quick to admonish.

John’s book falls from his lap as he sits up straighter to defend himself. “It’s true! Isn’t it, Anna? You only _work_ for father. You’re not his friend.”

Rude as it may have been, it is true, she knows. She is only staff, not family, and lowly born at that. But more than that, she knows how much John truly cares for her, how well he thinks of her. She’s certain he meant no harm in his comment.

Anna’s face softens, a genial smile coming to her lips. “I know. You’re right,” she accepts, trying to rid the boy of his guilt.

“I didn’t mean anything by it, Anna,” he apologizes, shoulders low and expression glum.

She reaches a hand out to him till he stands before her. With a gentle squeeze of his arm, she softly says, “I know. I know, John. Besides, who wants to go to some silly party anyways, hmm?” She tries to catch is downcast eyes, giving a silly smirk for him to return.

“ _I_ still do,” Mary announces, making both governess and brother look to her. Elbow on the back of her chair, and chin resting in her hand, she looks every bit like the spoiled seven year old she is. It’s a simultaneously adorable and ridiculous sight causing Anna and John to chuckle. With a scowl she turns away from them with a _hmph_.

—————

The breeze is cool sweeping through the vale, the heather ebbing and flowing like an ocean of violet. Anna wonders what it would be like to drown in it. Lying flat on her back, the purple tips of heath glide together in a synchronized dance only it knows, framing the blue sky perfectly.

Years ago, the only thing that surrounded her were cold, stone walls, and even colder caretakers. The orphanage was not for the faint of heart - nor the sickly. Turns out she was neither of those things, only lonely, so she survived, health and heart intact. Though perhaps, still somewhat lonely.

Inhaling the fresh air around her, her eyes close, dreary memories replaced by newer, happier ones. Full of tow-headed children who refuse to listen to her but make her smile nonetheless. And a kind master who shows her more respect than she deserves. She thinks she might in fact have drowned in this purple sea, and died and gone to heaven.

“Anna, are you sleeping?” Mary’s curious whisper full of sweetness.

“She’s not sleeping,” John insists, and she can practically hear his eyes roll in his head.

“How do you know? She looks rather peaceful.” She feels Mary’s small hand pet tenderly over her hair and Anna’s heart melts.

“That’s just it, dummy. If she were sleeping, she’d be snoring.”

Anna nearly laughs, but instead lets out a drawn out snort, shooting up fast as she grabs for both screeching children. She finds purchase in the fabric of Mary’s dress, John escaping her grasp. Pulling a laughing Mary down beside her, Anna tickles relentlessly until the little girl is near out of breath. They lie together, a chuckling Mary patting her cheek making Anna’s smile grow wider.

“You’re a silly girl, poppet.”

Mary only shrugs. “So are you.”

“That’s true. It’s a good thing I found you then.”

“What _are_ you two doing down there?” John questions with disdain.

Anna raises her brows at his haughty tone. “Oh,” she begins, patting the ground on the other side of his sister, “Do join us in the flowers, Master John.”

Like his answer to everything since he turned ten, he rolls his eyes. “ _Girls_ ,” he says with disgust, causing Anna and Mary to start another round of laughter. It stops short at the galloping sound of a horse causing them both to raise up quickly.

“Who’s that?” asks Mary.

“The first of your father’s guests I would assume.”

“I shall like to meet him,” the young girl proposes before dashing toward the manor.

“Mary!” Anna calls chasing after her. “Mary, wait.”

Anna tries to catch her, wondering how a person with such short legs can run so fast. She reaches Mary as the girl makes it to the inner courtyard, just in time to see the visitor dismount.

He’s tall and lean Anna notices, with skin very fair, his coloring and build making her think that he’s perhaps not one for sport or exercise. No, indeed with his white pallor and dark circles beneath his eyes he appears almost sickly. And rather chilling.

Mary, of course, has no qualms, running up to the stranger as he hands the reins of his horse over to the help.

“Good day,” she greets with all the pomp and seriousness of a girl twice her age. It’s cute, but the unhappy expression on the man’s face turns Anna’s heart with worry. “I am Mary. What’s your name, sir?”

The man only glares at her, his height over her making him look like an angry tower. Anna begins a slow pace forward, breath coming fast.

“Bit presumptuous of you,” the man finally says. “You’re Marriott’s daughter, then?”

“I am, sir.” Mary gives him a gap toothed grin, the first of her baby teeth beginning to fall out last year. Anna holds her breath, waiting for his reaction as she continues to make her way forward. Her stomach twists when the man reaches down, fingers closing in on Mary.

But he merely plucks out a piece of grass that had tangled in the girl’s mess of a hair. Peering up, he locks eyes with Anna, now standing just behind her charge. It’s only now she sees what a piercing blue his eyes are - icy. Which is perfect as his gaze nearly makes her tremble.

“You’re the governess, I take it?” he asks, head tilting towards Mary.

Her mouth opens for a time, with nothing escaping it until finally, “I am.” It’s then he starts reaching for _her_. For a crazy moment, she thinks he means to touch her cheek, and her eyes widen as her heart thrums madly. But no, again, he only releases a bit of grass. She watches it - and his hand - in a bit of shock, before suddenly realizing how much of a mess she must also appear.

“Makes sense,” he says, face taking on a derisive expression. “Perhaps do your job, governess. Instead of acting as one of the children,” he sneers.

His words would be insulting enough, but it doesn’t even match his actions when he flicks the grass into her face before walking off into the manor without another word.

Anna tries not to let her humiliation show while she wipes at her face before trying to straighten out her hair.

Mary takes a handful of Anna’s dress, laying her head against her. “I don’t think he’s a very nice man.”

“No. I don’t either.”


	2. I Will Be Quiet

_I’m sorry miss, but the master’d like to speak with you._

It’s not wholly unusual, Anna thinks, passing by the extravagant paintings through the dark wooden halls. He is after all, her employer and father of her charges. They speak all time. But this feels different somehow.

Anna shakes her head, trying to dislodge such ridiculousness from her mind. This unquietness within her is only from her meeting with the _man_ , as she’s taken to calling him. She’s since learned from the gossipy maids that his name is Robert Hall, but she’s decided to continue calling him the _man_ , with a sneer... at least in her head.

Since her introduction to him she’s felt like a silly schoolgirl, wanting to go cry beneath her covers. Which is precisely what he wanted her to do, so she refuses to do it. And if she’s so unlucky as to cross paths with him again, she’s decided to merely greet him coldly with her head held high and move on.

Life is much too short to put stock into what cruel, arrogant strangers think of you.

She knocks timidly on Master Marriott’s office door before entering into the warm room. He sits casually in his chair behind his desk, attention at first only for his papers. But once he hears her steps he peers up, welcoming and kind as ever.

“Anna! You’re here, wonderful.”

She can’t help but return his smile, infectious as it is. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Yes, yes. Please,” he gestures to the chair across from him.

The setting sun has turned the sky a brilliant shade of pink and purple through the large window behind him, a perfect backdrop to his dark hair and light features, like one of his beloved paintings she thinks.

She’s not too good to admit an attraction to him, only a blind woman would not see his beauty. All the maids, and even the old housekeeper, speak of their handsome master. But of course, she has never been anything but appropriate around him, and he around her. She’s not so stupid as to risk her employment over a crush. Even if he is handsome and sweet, and dotes on his children.

“Anna,” he begins, breaking her from her thoughts. “I would like John to join us tonight.”

She frowns, confused. “Sir?”

“I think it’s time for him to begin learning about how to interact with the ton, yes?”

“But he’s only a child,” she splutters. “Surely, it’s early yet?”

His fingers lace together atop his desk, leaning forward a bit. “Perhaps, but he is a good boy. Thanks to you, a well behaved boy, but not one for much longer, I think.”

“He’s ten.” She’s at a loss to say anything else, surely pushing a boy, who’d much rather be tromping through mud and exploring the outside, to interact with stuck up nobs is not a good idea. No matter how well behaved he is.

“Exactly. Ten. High time. So he’ll be there, yes?”

She could do nothing but nod out of duty. “Of course, sir.” With nothing else, she stands, thinking of how sorry she is for a boy who would have to play the silly role of a little man in a room of vipers.

“Oh, Anna,” he calls, her hand on the door handle as she turns back. “It goes without saying, of course, but John _is_ a boy still. And as his governess he will need you there.”

Fear shoots up her spine lightning fast, eyes going wide. “Sir, I can’t.”

“Can’t?” he asks, a mixture of worry and annoyance.

“I mean... I am only a governess, not a lady. I don’t belong there.”

“You belong wherever the children need you. And tonight, that will be with me, and my guests.”

All out of excuses, she drops her head, resigning herself to her fate. “I’ve nothing to wear.” She doubts her wardrobe of two drab grey dresses and one black would be appropriate for such an occasion.

“Oh, don’t worry. No one will be looking at you. Thank you, Anna.” He focuses back on his papers, squinting at them in the dying light. He should light a candle, she thinks numbly before walking out.

_No one will be looking at you._

It wasn’t said cruelly, or with malice, Master Marriott is not that kind of man. But the coolness of it, the carelessness of how he said it, as if it were obvious how all but invisible she was, was as sharp as a dagger.

—————

The news was accepted by John and Mary as well as Anna expected. Which is to say, not at all.

After a never ending chorus of _It’s not fairs_ , and _Why him and not me_ , and _But I don’t even bloody want to go._ Anna finally got them settled down.

Mary, angry and forlorn in her bed, arms crossed over her sheets and a scowl so deep Anna was certain the girl was not going to fall asleep for some time.

And poor John, self conscious and uncomfortable in his fancy waistcoat and breeches. Like Mary and Anna, he’s silent and resigned, but her heart breaks for both of them. It’s silly, she thinks, not to mention dangerous. They’re not her children, only her charges. Ultimately, their fate is not in her hands. And while she’s always known this, she doesn’t think she’s ever really thought about it till just now. And it’s terrifying.

“Alright,” she says before leaning over Mary’s unhappy form. She dips to kiss her on the forehead, but the girl rolls away before she can. Anna settles instead on a caress of the girl’s blonde head. “Goodnight, poppet.”

John’s hand in hers, they make their way to the music room. She can hear the laughter and pianoforte from down the hall, something classical and melodious blending with a murmur of conversation. She thinks her anxiety is about to hit its own high note before she’s immediately held back from entering by John.

He says nothing, only looking up at her with blue eyes full of too much fear to speak. And that’s it, that’s all it takes for her to find her bravery - for him.

“I’ll be there the entire time, as will your father.”

“Promise,” he begs forcefully, “promise you won’t leave.”

Anna leans over, setting herself at eye level with him. “Promise.” It’s said with a true sincerity he recognizes, and she sees the fear melt away some. With a boop of his nose, she smiles at him, making him grin in return. “‘C’mon.”

The room goes silent when they enter, everyone watching them. Too full of nerves, Anna sees none of them.

“John!” Master Marriott strides towards his son with excitement, setting down his glass of scotch rather loudly before making his way over. “Come on, son.”

As Marriott takes John around to speak to various guests, Anna begins to feel more than a little awkward standing alone in the middle of the room. Finding a seat along a dark wall, she takes solitude in the shadows, watching with some fascination at the glint and gleam of the ladies’ gowns and jewelry in the warm candlelight.

The room glows orange with the firelight though, shadows dancing tall and misshapen along the walls like ghosts. She almost feels calm, at peace with the ease with which John seems to be engaging with others and how she’s being left alone.

_No one does notice me, and it’s definitely for the better._

Then she shivers, the hair on the back of her neck standing at attention. Something’s wrong, though she can’t quite place her finger on what. Fingers twisting around each other in her lap, she tries to calm her nervous thoughts as she searches the room.

And then she sees him, eyeing her from across the way over the sea of heads between them. He stands beside the fire, one arm leaning on the mantelpiece and a foot resting on the grate. He’s all alone. In a room full of people, not a single one pays him any attention. For one silly moment she wonders if _he’s_ a ghost. But no, he’s just a miserable man no one likes.

Well good, Anna thinks. She’s glad she’s not the only one to feel that way about him. Then she wonders why on earth Master Marriott invited him? Are they friends? Old acquaintances perhaps? No two men could be further apart in spirit.

His eyes, made bright by the fire, burn into her very being, as if she were the only soul in the room. So focused on her, she’d think he were a statue except for the periodic sips of his drink.

She swallows hard, throat closing in and breath becoming erratic. Then his eyes cut away to Marriott, smiling and jovial as ever as he tells a story, John happy by his side. The intensity with which Robert Hall stares at them almost rivals how he stares at her. Or perhaps he just looks at everyone that way.

For some reason, the thought makes her laugh, a soft chuckle breaking out unwarranted. She dips her head down, hiding her goofy smile. But then she feels his eyes on her again and cracks begin to form in her facade of strength.

She can’t handle this much longer, room closing in on her. The music is too somber, and the laughter is too loud, and the heat is becoming overwhelming as she struggles to breathe. And why does he keep _staring_ at her.

She promised John she’d stay, but she has to get out now or she may very well pass out. To her relief, no one seems to notice as she makes her hasty escape, too caught up in their party.

Racing down the dim hall, she doesn’t stop until she’s alone, slamming a door behind her. Face turned up to the ceiling, she releases a heavy breath, and then another, feeling her heart slow to a not as dangerous pace. She sits in a leather chair, mindless for a long moment before she takes stock of where she is - Master Marriott’s office.

She blinks with shock. How was she able to enter she wonders, sure Master Marriott always kept it locked. Perhaps this is just the one time he did not.

_No matter. I won’t be long._

When she feels sufficiently calmed she stands, making her way to the door on much steadier legs.

Hand paused on the handle, the echoing sound of footsteps in the hall has her heart racing all over again. She watches a shadow play beneath the doorway, praying for whoever it is to keep walking. But the steps go quiet, the shadow unmoving, until all there is between her and the stranger is a wooden door.

“Anna Smith. I know you’re in there.”


	3. Red Snares

“Anna Smith.”

Her hands that’d been hovering over the handle jump away as she starts. Heart beating wild and rapid like a cornered deer as she takes a frightened step back, followed by another.

Her mind is spinning, stomach churning.

_How did he know her name? How did he know she was here? What was he doing here?_

“Anna, I’m going to open this door.” His voice is muffled through the wood, but regardless, she understands every word, heart lurching with each one. “And if it’s locked,” he warns, dark and quiet,”well, you’re going to wish otherwise.”

She watches in horror as the ornate brass handle turns, taking yet another step back.

The door opens painfully slow, Robert Hall’s tall form filling the entrance - her only means of escape. With a soft _click_ , the door closes and her fate sealed. For what, she isn’t certain.

It’s probably rather comical, both of them just standing and watching each other in the dark room, nothing but the moon through the large windows to light their surroundings.

“Good girl, Anna.” The gentle caress of his praise fused toxically with his sharp and dangerous stare, Her blood goes cold even as sweat beads on her forehead.

She releases a trembling breath, swallowing hard before finding the courage to speak. “What are you doing here, sir?” If she weren’t terrified out of her mind she’d admonish herself for sounding so weak, voice coming out breathless and desperate.

He cocks his head, moonlight shining on his blonde hair, and giving his already pale skin an almost ethereal quality. He had the markings of an angel, but his dark gaze spoke of something else entirely.

“I could ask the same of you, Anna Smith?”

She frowns, head shaking. “How do you know my name?”

He sighs, almost as if disappointed. “I thought governesses were supposed to be smarter than that.” With a calm step forward, he says, “So your stupid as well as unattractive then?”

A pained gasp releases quietly from her, not expecting the cruel words.

“ _Think_ , Anna,” he hisses. “Maids talk. It was all too easy to find out the name of the brainless governess rolling around in the grass.”

She supposes she should’ve thought of that, it is, after all, how she learned his name. Though it didn’t explain why he uses hers with such familiarity.

With a hard swallow she realizes he’s been slowly advancing on her, only a few feet away now. She takes a shaky step back, bumping into a small table, a glass spilling its amber contents all over it, making her jump.

“Well, now you’ve gone and made a mess, silly girl.” His brows raise, as if struck by a new idea. “Perhaps I should make you clean it up?”

She shakes her head wordlessly, no longer understanding what’s happening here. What does he want? Just to demean her? To see her cry?

“I think that’s a good idea, Anna. Always clean up after yourself. That is something you teach your charges, yes?”

And with an almost preternatural sense she dodges him as he lunges for her, hip crashing painfully on the edge of Marriott’s desk when she stumbles over a chair. Crying out, she pushes forward, but he’s too fast, the weight of his body holding her back onto the desk as he snares her wrist in one hand, and twists his fingers into her hair with the other.

With another cry, a sort of feral-ness takes over her, and she snaps her head to the side, teeth seeking skin as they sink into his wrist. He hollers loud in her ear, the hand in her hair releasing, allowing her to fly past him.

But the grasp he has of her wrist is strong yet, and he yanks her back, joint in her shoulder pulling hard before she falls back with force. Stumbling as she tries to keep away, she ends up against the cupboards of Master Marriott’s trinkets and papers, some floating to the floor. Before she has a chance to even think about moving he’s on her again, pushing into her with his weight, the edge of the cupboard digging into her back.

With the capture of both wrists held above her head, and his body pressing hard against her, he has her completely immobilized. Their breaths come out in forceful pants, stirring the air hot around them, and causing loose tendrils of her hair to tickle at her face. She smells the whiskey on his breath, spicy and heady as it swirls around her.

His heavy pants turn into a breathless laugh as his expression lights up. “Well, Anna I am surprised.” His eyes travel down to her lips, in their depths, a greediness that both makes her skin crawl and body ache in a way she doesn’t understand. He licks his own lips, and out of some sort of twisted reflex she mimics him, a sharp metallic taste dancing on her tongue.

_His blood._

The image of her biting him flashes in her mind, her body suddenly running hot from it. It’s then she’s finally able to take stock of herself, hair disheveled and loose, lashes sticking together with her tears, and cheeks wet with them, while her lips and chin were painted with his blood.

“I’m very impressed,” he says, as if that was what she’d wanted all along. The ridiculousness of it has her struggling in his grasp. But he holds fast, pushing the length of him deeper against her as his knee begins to slide between her legs. A litany of _shh’s_ and _Anna’s_ fall from his lips sounding almost kind and caring, and her bruised, exhausted body and mind reaches out for it.

Sobs begin to wrack through her, a rather pathetic sound, like a child. Eyes closed and tears falling liberally, her head dips forward in defeat, and she leans into the soft caress of his lips against her temple, seeking comfort in her attacker of all things.

“Please,” she begs with a whisper. “Please, sir let me go. I won’t tell anyone, I swear. Please.”

“Now Anna. Sweet, simple Anna. Why would I do that when we have so much to discuss.”

Her head drops back with a cry, cupboard shuddering beneath them.

“Hush now,” he orders softly, adjusting his body against her, allowing her to feel every hard plane of him pressed tightly against the soft slopes of her. “Hush, Anna. It’s not all bad, yes? I’m the one bleeding after all.” He smiles, his face lit up with amusement, and for the briefest of moments he looks so much like John it hurts, blonde hair and blue eyes alight like a silly boy whose played a prank on you.

“Now,” he begins, serious but still with a softness at the edges, “I need something from you.”

Her heart seizes in her chest, bladder loosening with an animalistic fear. Eyes wide, she twists against him frantically, mind lost to images of what he plans to do with her. “No sir, please! No, no, no, no, no!”

“Anna,” he warns, sounding like stern father. “Anna, stop.” Yet still so calm as he eases her back down from her peaking anxiety. “Stop.”

It’s quiet for a moment, the only sound in the room, their rapid breathing. “Now look at me.” She keeps her head down. So tired. “Look at me,” he commands with more force, cupboard shaking beneath them again as he tries to gain her attention.

Finally, she obeys, all thoughts erased from her. “Good girl. Are you listening, Anna?” She nods robotically, his voice coming out small and far away. “From now on, you keep the children away. You keep them far away from me. Do you understand?”

She frowns, not understanding at _all_. _That’s_ what this has all been about. His annoyance with the children?

“Anna, do you understand?” She nods despite the fact that she’s more confused than ever before. “I don’t want to see her bastards again,” he says through gritted teeth.

He sighs, as if he too is tired. “Now, as for the next thing.” His hold on strengthens, hard thigh sliding further between her legs when he begins to feel the tell-tale signs of her panic. “Anna,” he warns with amusement, “calm yourself, or this will end much worse for you.” She can feel the muscles of his thigh tighten, even through the layers of fabric that separates them. It confuses her, the pure disgust she has at the feel of his touch, yet _there_ , where his thigh presses firm, is a delicious throb she almost wants to chase.

“For the rest of my stay here, I need you to do exactly as I say. Without question, without refusal. You do what I say, when I say.”

Bravery begins to peek its head within her, brows crashing together with hate. “I am not your maid, sir.”

“That’s not what I mean,” he growls.

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need too. You need only obey.”

“Why,” she asks with disgust. “Why would I ever obey a monster like you.”

He smiles, all sharp and mean and frightening. “Because I _am_ a monster, Anna. You’re right about that.” He leans his face in close, hot whiskey laden breath washing over her as he bumps his nose playfully against her own. “And because, I believe your reputation is important to you, Anna. It is, yes?”

Her eyes search his desperately for an answer to his madness. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it would be unfortunate if Master Marriott and others were to find out about our little... coitus in his office.”

Her breath catches in shock before trembling with fear. “But we haven’t! We didn’t-”

“Perhaps not,” he agrees, “but they don’t know that,” gesturing through the wall to the music room.

She shakes her head, determined in her belief. “No, they wouldn’t believe you.”

He grins as if she’s telling a joke. “You’ve not spent much time around nobs have you? They believe whatever makes their lives more interesting. Further more, when it comes to the word of a gentleman versus a lowly governess... well, I know exactly who they’re going to believe.”

And just like that, her determination vanishes. He must sense it, her defeat, his devil’s intuition celebrating a victory as he disappears from her, his hands, his body, and his breath, suddenly gone as he steps back, watching with dark enjoyment as she nearly collapses without him there to hold her up.

They’re both silent for a long moment, time stretching out impossibly between them before he lifts a hand towards the door. “After you,” he says with a sly smile.

She walks almost like a drunkard towards the door, legs wobbly and unsure, the whole time fearing that he’ll change his mind and snatch her up again.

“Anna,” he calls after her gently, making her jump before going still. “You might want to make yourself more presentable before returning.” She feels the warmth of him seep into her as he stands just behind her. “What would they _think_ if they saw you in such a state?”


	4. Forbidden

She feels it every time she sits or stands... or moves. She caught site of the bruise on her hip getting ready for a bath, the reflection of her battered body causing silent tears to slide down her face. It was ghastly, all black and blue and purple, standing out against the creamy white of her skin. She stared at it in the mirror for too long, memories of the night coming back to her. The violence, the cruelty, the anger. In all her life she’d never been treated thus - and the orphanage had by no means been a friendly or happy place.

Robert Hall is a dangerous man. _Beyond_ dangerous. Which is why, as Anna slid into the bath, careful to bite her lip against the pain and not wake the manor, she made her decision.

She will not help him, in whatever it is he wished her to do. If he wanted to play games with her, she would stay one step ahead. Mind set, tomorrow she would go to Master Marriott with her head held high, and tell him the truth - of her attack at the hands of his guest Mr. Hall.

But now it is tomorrow, and as she sits at her windowsill, watching the morning sun rise steadily over a hill beyond the vale, she wavers in her decision. While Marriott is indeed a good master, he is still a man. And as such, he’s prone to defensiveness and arrogance. If she were to go to him, telling him of the harm that came to her because of his guest, he may very well be forced to choose between a powerful friend or a silly governess. His belief in her story, inconsequential.

Tears began welling up again and she scoffed, roughly rubbing them away before stomping over to her wardrobe. She refuses to cry anymore over that animal. The white sleeping gown slips from her shoulders, pooling at her feet. Heady, unwanted images of the night before swirl in her mind as she stares at her naked reflection.

She can still feel the solidness of his body, the masculinity of it compared to the pliant softness of her own. She’s never felt a man so close before, never had one touch her in any way except in politeness.

Eyes still on herself, she skims her hand up her thigh, slow and timid until she reaches the smooth plane of her stomach, just below her navel. Fingers trembling, she glides them hesitantly down her skin, brows furrowed in concentration and curiosity. The lower she travels the crazier her heart beats, a warning she thinks, but she doesn’t heed it.

It feels different as her fingers brush against herself. Not... enjoyable. No heat or delectable neediness she felt the night before. She sighs, letting her hand drop to her side, frustrated with how turned around she feels. Is that what it was then, she wonders? Was she sick to have felt the strange thrill she did, caused only by overwhelming fear of pain and humiliation?

She dresses quickly, no longer wanting to look at herself that way - think of herself that way. It was just too confusing and distressing. So instead she wraps it up in linen and fabric, a grey, somber dress to ward off anymore thoughts of her body and how Mr. Hall had awoken a feeling within it that only he _could_ apparently.

—————

“Anna,” Mary gasps, fingers wrapping firm yet gentle around her governess’ forearm, holding it in place as she inspects it.

Anna peers up at her with worry, the book she’d been handing off to the girl forgotten.

“What happened to you?” She scoots closer in the grass, John now looking up at them with interest.

Anna follows the young girl’s eyes to where the sleeve of her dress has run up, revealing an ugly, mottled bruise around her wrist. She drops the book with haste, not caring about having lost the page for their lesson, and tugged the sleeve back down.

“Nothing.” She gives an open smile, trying to appear carefree. The dubious look on Mary’s face tells her she hasn’t succeeded. “Honestly poppet, I’m not even certain where it came from.”

“Has someone hurt you?” John questions, standing beside her, and it’s beginning to feel like she’s defending herself for her injuries.

She chuckles, trying to add levity to the situation. “Of course not. Why would someone want to hurt me?” she asserts.

“You’ve another on your other wrist,” John points out.

Anna eyes her other wrist with dread, melancholy wrapping tighter around her, encroaching slow and methodical ever since the night before.

With a sad smile she hides her wrist behind her back. “It’s alright,” she maintains weakly, and she knows it isn’t enough for them, but she’s nothing else to give.

—————

She’d been successfully avoiding the men’s group all day, taking the children’s lesson outside in the morning - she thought French lessons mixed very well with fresh air - and taking them back in once she was told the group had gone out riding.

But there was nothing she could do come evening, everyone would be under the same roof. Though thankfully the manor was rather large, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to evade certain people.

Which is why she’s startled enough to scream when Mr. Hall simply says her name as she exits the kitchens. She’d been searching for something to eat, having forgone dinner with the housekeeper, Mrs. Flynn, unable to politely socialize anymore today.

She hadn’t seen him while walking out, her mind too busy thinking about... well, him. All the while, he’d been leaning against the wall beside the doorway, waiting for her to leave. And now Robert Hall chuckles at her like a bully as she tries to compose herself, hoping that the sudden burst of fear she’d felt was truly unneeded. She knew now that with him one never knew.

“Where were you today, Anna?”

She blinks at him, wondering if he’s playing with her. “With the children, of course.”

He nods, pushing away from the wall, standing straight and tall, searching down at her expression with seriousness. “All day?”

Her heart begins to hammer rapid and with a strength that makes her fear he can hear it. Stomach clenching, she tries to remember if she’d done anything that would anger him, to make her fear him even more, and she comes up blank.

“Yes.”

The sound of his boots are loud in the silent darkness of the room, reverberating around them as he steadily makes his way closer towards her, hands folded behind his back.

She felt like prey - _his_ prey.

“Surely they don’t require you all day? You’re not a nanny, after all, only a governess.”

She wasn’t certain what he was getting at - what he was searching for - and the uncertainty of it made her breath rush faster, burning her lungs from within. She didn’t answer - couldn’t. So she said nothing at all, clenching the apple she held in her hands.

She felt the knock of the tip of his boots against her own as he came to stand close before her, eyes penetrating into her very soul. She swallowed hard, face running hot under his gaze.

“Because I get the distinct impression that you were avoiding me today, Anna.” With a tilt of his head his face softens, almost as if he cares how she will answer. “Am I right?”

She drops her head swiftly, unable to bear his scrutiny any longer. “Sir,” she began with a tremulous voice, “you asked me to keep the children away from you-”

“No, I demanded it.”

“Yes- yes, sir,” she stumbles out. “So that is what I did.”

He sighs, no alcohol on his breath that she can detect, and she hopes that means it will not be a repeat of the previous night.

“I asked the children be kept away. Not you.”

“Sir-”

“I will see you tomorrow, Anna,” he interrupts, tone not allowing for any argument. And she certainly does not wish to bring out such a thing, meekly answering with a _yes, sir_.

“Besides,” he starts, sounding almost cheerful as he snatches the apple from her hand, making her frown up at him with indignation. “I have a task for you.”

With that, he takes a bite, the snap of his teeth slicing into the fresh fruit making her mouth water.

Chewing thoughtfully, he smirks. “Apologies. You must be hungry. I heard from Mrs. Flynn that you were too unwell to appear for dinner. I do hope it’s nothing serious, Anna.”

Nose flaring, she glares at him, wishing she could cause his death from a look alone.

He merely chuckles at her show of anger. “Well, let me share my spoils with you then.”

Anger morphs into a panicked confusion when he holds forth the apple near her lips. The sickly sweet smell invades her senses, while the heat of his eyes and body surrounds her, all of it working together, making her dizzy.

“Take a bite,” he whispers.

At first she can do nothing but stare up at him, at a loss for what’s happening. _Is this moment even real_ , she wonders? She finds herself enough to shake her head, slow and mindless like an idiot.

His expression turns dark, blue eyes sharp on her. “Bite it,” he growls, low and husky.

Hands shaking, she lifts them to his proffered one, cupping the back of it gently bringing it closer as her teeth sink into the crisp fruit, the taste exploding on her tongue as the juice swirls in her mouth.

“Chew, Anna.”

His eyes never leave hers as she does as he instructs, fingers still resting on the back of his hand.

“Good girl.” A warmth pools between her legs at the praise, heart floating up into her throat as she tries to swallow around it.

He drops his hand, her own falling with it, but he raises his other to gently wipe away the sticky juice on the tip of her nose with a long finger.

“Find me tomorrow.” It’s said soft and kind, but she knows it’s an order still and she nods silently.


	5. I Want to Ki__ You (answers may vary)

Now’s as good a time as any, Anna thinks, watching Mary play Graces with her nursemaid, and John pointedly trying to ignore them. She stands without a word, making her way to the house unnoticed.

Stepping lightly within, she hopes the various servants that rush past in their duties continue to ignore her. She doesn’t wish to raise suspicion, nor to lie, even though she doesn’t think she’s capable of it in as nervous a state as she is, but finding that frustrating man proves difficult. When she sees that both the smoking room and library are empty, there’s only one place left to check.

Finally, she finds him in the billiards room, along with the rest of the men in Master Marriott’s group of guests. She hesitates just outside the door of the hazy den, thick with the earthy scent of tobacco and cigars, her fingers twisting together nervously behind her back. The billiards room is one of several considered to be “men’s rooms”, and women, therefore, stayed clear.

So it’s not surprising when one of the gentlemen catches her lingering in the doorway, they all turn to stare at her with a range of looks from befuddlement to outright insulted. Except Robert Hall, of course. He just appears delightfully amused at the situation as well as at her discomfort.

“Anna?” Mr. Marriott questions, and she can hear the slight warning beneath the worry. “Are the children alright?”

She clears her throat before answering, trying to control the embarrassment flooding through her body. “Yes. Yes, sir. They are well.”

An uncomfortable silence stretches too long. At a loss, she’s unsure of how to explain her presence, wondering if she should just leave instead. But one look at Hall and her worries about his threats return anew.

Marriott raises his brows in a none too subtle reaction of question and irritation. “Did you need something?”

Her mouth opens to explain but nothing comes out as her mind freezes, all eyes on her. She was not expecting Hall to be here, hoping to catch him alone, and now she’s stuck and looking like a fool. Stomach in knots and tongue tied, she thinks she might faint.

“I asked for her here,” Robert proclaims nonchalantly. Anna didn’t think she’d ever feel grateful to this awful man until now. Then she remembers that he’s the reason she’s in this position at all, and would be fine if he went straight to hell.

He’s seated in the leather chair nearest her, set apart from the rest of the group. Almost as if he’s not really here with the others - not really here _for_ the others. And again she asks herself why he’s truly here at all.

Marriott frowns, looking on the younger man with confusion. “Hall?”

Robert ignores him, hand lifting lazily from the arm of his chair, watching her with a look that pools deeper than mere amusement - though what else swims within there she can’t say. “Come,” he invites her to him coolly.

“Hall, this is inappropriate. If you need something you’ve only to ask. I’m sure my servants can help you.”

Still only eyes for her, and hand still outstretched, Robert explains, “I don’t have need of your servants, Marriott, only your governess.”

Rather than confront his entitled guest, Mr. Marriott huffs, and turns his ire on her, jaw clenched and expression furious. “Leave now, Miss Smith! We will speak about this later.”

She’s about to flee, a ball of emotion stuck in her throat and a burning behind her eyes. But then another voice calls out, cheerful and unbothered by the tension in the room. “Now, now. Wait just a moment Marriott.” It’s an older man with snow white hair and fleshy lips that he licks incessantly, making her her cringe. “I want to see what the boy needs this little mouse for,” he says with a dry chuckle.

She’d never describe Robert Hall as a boy, but compared to this old codger she supposes he is. Taking in the rest of the men, all of various ages, she sees that Hall is indeed the youngest one of them.

His brows raise expectantly, the corners of his lips pulling up. He looks almost childlike and silly continuing to hold out his hand for her. And not for the first time since she’s met him, she wonders what he’s playing at.

Feeling Marriott’s fury continuing to burn her from afar, the rest of the men look at her expectantly, no doubt enjoying this little drama unfolding before them. With a deep breath she steps inside, standing beside Hall though refusing to meet his gaze. She also refuses his hand, her own clutched behind her still.

She jerks with surprise at his touch, fingers sliding down her arm past her sleeve until he finds her own. Freeing them from behind her, he takes them in his. “Sit,” he urges playfully, boyish grin on his face when she looks at him with shock, eyes bouncing from his face to his lap, where, presumably, he expects her to sit.

His fingers squeeze hers with a gentle pressure to spur her on, and perhaps gift her with some bravery. And while she’d like nothing more than to rip her hand from his and smack the grin from his face, a much stronger part of her wishes to do as he says. To for once be noticed by others that believe they are her betters.

But she knows to do it, surely means the end of her, and everything she’s built. Hall sees it, expression becoming resigned and accepting of the choice. Lifting her hand, he places an earnest yet gentlemanly kiss along her knuckles and her stomach flutters, her always traitorous heart trying to break free from the prison of her rib cage.

She tries not to forget how dangerous this man is, all while being overcome with a spreading warmth that’s nothing to do with her furious employer or a room full of lascivious men.

“That is _quite_ enough,” Marriott explodes, tearing down the room and snatching her free arm roughly making her cry out. Soon her entire body will be covered in bruises left by willful men.

Hall doesn’t react, only peering up at them with a cruel pleasure. It seems to only push Marriott even further. “This is _not_ a brothel,” he snaps at Hall before setting his disgust on her. “And she is _not_ a whore. Despite her appalling behavior.”

With that, he drags her away, nearly throwing her to the floor outside the room. “We will speak of this tonight,” he growls before slamming the door, the sound echoing around her.

_What have I done?_


	6. Counterweight

Her frame slumps lower with every step away from the study, her shoulders falling and head hanging as she uses the wall for support. Other than all this, she thinks she’s held herself together marvelously well. The tears have been held back, and during her reprimand in the study, she’d kept her spine straight and her expression void of emotions. Only _yes, sir’s_ and _apologies, sir’s_ falling from her lips.

But now, alone in the dark hall just outside her room, the lashing is taking its toll. Forehead resting on the cool wood of the door, she feels the tears slip down silently, and she licks away their salty wetness from her lips.

Mr. Marriott had been right to discipline her. Truth be told, she’s shocked he hadn’t dismissed her after her horrid display of outright disobedience and immodesty. And all in front of his guests. Her face runs hot and her stomach clenches with a twisting sting of embarrassment. She slides blunt nails down her smooth door in frustration. What had she been thinking? She should have left the moment her Master had ordered her to do so.

But Mr. Hall was there, and while at first the memory of his threat had her standing in place, if she’s honest with herself, that wasn’t the only reason. The teasing glint in his eye, his pleasure at her appearance and boyish grin had also held her there. Before then, she’d only seen him as a dark, foreboding figure. But in that room of powerful, selfish men, who would at any other time never even notice her, his playful demeanor seemed... different. As if he were asking her to help him put on a show for these men, something they wouldn’t even understand in their own arrogance, poking fun at them.

Sniffing, she rolls her eyes. Foolish. She was a stupid, foolish girl. He’d only been using her for his own amusement, just as any of those other men would gladly do. It was only Mr. Marriott who had the heart to save her from his and her own embarrassment while he could. She owed him a debt, to be sure.

The wave of heat that hits when she opens her door is a surprise, as is the glow of the fire popping in the fireplace, filling her room with an earthy, smoky scent. The maids usually left her to start her own fires, especially now with guests in the house, her needs were far below anyone else’s. With a frown she watches the flames, mesmerized as she tries to think of who would’ve done this. Perhaps Mrs. Flynn. She’d indeed heard Anna’s lashing by Mr. Marriott, and Anna felt that they were as close as two women working for the same man could be, despite their large age gap.

“Not yet sacked, I see.”

Her gasp comes out shrill as she collides back into her desk, and Hall grimaces at the sound. “Jesus, you’re going to get us caught before I can even use my leverage.” He lounges on her bed, back resting against the headboard with one knee up, filthy boot leaving dirt on her duvet. Once the shock has left her system, she marches over, knocking his knee down and off her bed, making him sit up.

“There’s no reason for any of that,” he says lightheartedly, “you’re still employed after all.”

“No thanks to you.” She tries to sound angry, and she is, but she’s also tired - of him and this entire situation.

He sighs, taking her more seriously. “I knew he wouldn’t fire you, Anna. Your employment is safe.”

Head shaking, she closes her eyes. She doesn’t understand this man, and she no longer wants to try anymore. “How? How could you know such a thing? Are you some sort of medium? Do you have a crystal ball hidden somewhere in your fancy clothes, perhaps?”

He snorts, grinning up at her, and the fact that her stomach begins to ache at the sight of his handsome face in the firelight means nothing she tells herself.

“Mediums aren’t real, Anna. But my intuition is.” He stands then, slow and sure of himself as his tall body slides up in front of hers, eyes never losing contact before he’s at his full height. “Believe me, you’d have to do much worse than a little disobedience to get Marriott to excuse you from his life.”

If she didn’t know him she’d think he were trying to make her feel better. But there’s another layer of this, as there always is with him. “Why wouldn’t he? There are hundreds of women who would be more than happy to be governess here.”

“Yes, I’m sure there are. But they aren’t you,” he says cryptically, and as frustrated as she’s becoming, she also realizes he’s pulling her back into his madness, and she’s not even trying to fight it.

“What does that matter?” she questions, taking a step back from him, trying to create space for herself to breathe and think. “I’m no more special than any other poor, desperate girl.”

But he follows her, like he’s trying to use his heat and presence to overwhelm and confuse. “But to him you are.”

Beginning to feel the weight of the painful turn her life as taken these last few days, her body sags, breath releasing what’s left of the little fight she’d had, leaning against the door. “What are you talking about-“

With another step closer they’re nearly touching, the essence of him enveloping her. His smell of tobacco and mint, the inviting warmth of his body - the only body of a man she’s ever felt against her own. His very presence is invasive and intoxicating, and he knows it as he looks down at her with blue eyes that are ice cold yet still somehow make her feel like some wicked woman engulfed in flames, not meant to purify but pull her all the more deeper into darkness. And god help her, she wants to go.

“He wants to fuck you, Anna.” It’s a whisper, the words carried on a light cloud before disappearing like smoke between them, yet they land heavy and shocking, weighted down not only by the inappropriate language, but by what they were saying. Her fingers tremble as she clutches the fabric of her dress.

“And if my little experiment today showed me anything, I’d say he’s quite possessive of you as well.” He leans in, hands planting on the door on either side of her, essentially trapping her.

“It drives him mad, the thought of another man touching you.” He rests his forehead on hers, just the slightest touch. And she’s so still, hard like stone with her muscles tense enough to begin cramping. But she can’t feel it. Her mind spins, refusing to make coherent thoughts about anything other than lips so close to her own, lips that have caressed her skin.

A wetness pools between her legs where she’d touched herself the morning before, and the memory stokes the fire inside her that had already been roaring. And her heart - her poor heart.

“You’re mad.” It’s accusing but there’s no heat there, her voice coming out quiet and tremulous.

“You chose this, Anna. You chose to walk into that room at my behest, and stand by my side. All very much against your master’s wishes, hmm.” He nuzzles his nose against hers, tickling and innocent as their breath mixes between them, lips barely grazing.

She tries to get her thoughts in order, but they’re rushing too fast along with the blood in her veins, filling her ears with a constant hum. “All of the men,” she tries to explain, “they were waiting, they were staring at me-“

“And you liked it, didn’t you?” He lifts the corner of his mouth, she can feel the movement against her own. “You enjoyed forcing those nasty old men to pay you attention. I think you’d enjoy any moment when those deemed important are forced to notice the invisible little governess.”

She didn’t want to be seen that way. No. She understood and accepted her place in the world without question. She’s grateful for what she’s been given.

“Don’t worry, Anna, your secret is safe with me. In fact, my little social climber,” he says with a tweak of her nose, “we have more in common then I first thought.”

“I’ve nothing in common with a monster like you.”

“Oh, but you do. And not only that,” he begins when he leans forward once more, hot breath blowing in her ear as he caresses it with his lips, “but I think you may have some... undiscovered proclivities that correlate rather nicely with my own. Like two puzzle pieces that fit together just so.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she breathes, dreamy and soft, eyeing the orange flicker of the fire, dancing with abandon at the end of her room, though the image had begun to shift out of focus.

“I know you don’t, my simple Anna. But never fear, I shall show you in time.”

She raises her hands to push him away, but they end up clutching his jacket instead. “Why are doing this? What do you want from me?”

“Your obedience, pet.” Her breath catches as he bites the sensitive skin behind her ear, licking away the sting after. She’s in a proper daze when he lifts his head, eyes pouring over him but not really seeing anything. All she can do is feel.

“There a papers I need your help to find.”

“Papers?”

“Marriott’s papers. Work things.”

Eyes shutting tight, she realizes it’s easier to regain control over herself in the dark. “Any papers of importance would be in his study. Which you had a chance to search through, but instead chose to spend your time molesting me.”

Finally, he leans back, arms still bracketing her head, and he chuckles, inviting and real. “And it was indeed a fun time, sweet Anna-” shifting his arm for her to see his bandaged wrist- “but the papers I’m looking for aren’t in his study.”

“How do you know?” she asks accusingly, becoming annoyed with his smugness at apparently knowing everything. Then it hits her. “You’ve already looked. That’s why the door was unlocked that night. You unlocked it.”

“I have quite a few talents, lock picking is just one of many.” He catches her chin with firm fingers, but she doesn’t fight it, and she tries not to think about why. “But maybe, if you are a very good girl, I will show you some others.”

“I don’t want anything from you.”

“That’s because I’ve not given you anything yet.” His brows raise as if in warning. As if she should be afraid of not being gifted something from him.

She sighs, finished playing this particular game tonight. It’s so exhausting when she doesn’t understand the rules. Hands dropping away from him, she dips beneath his arm, coming to stand beside the fire. Surprisingly, he doesn’t follow, and she tries not to linger in the disappointment it makes her feel.

“The papers are hidden somewhere in this house, and I require your help in searching for them.”

“How do you know they’re here?” she counters. “This isn’t Mr. Marriott’s only home.” Guilt squeezes in her chest, remembering just moments before when she’d decided she owed her employer a debt. What happened between then and now?

The answer crosses his arms, appearing serious with his solid legs not looking the least bit wobbly like her own.

“I’ve searched the others. Quite thoroughly in fact.” Her head tilts with surprise. “This is not the first time Marriott has invited me to one of his homes,” he explains, “and you are not the first woman in his employ, who deemed it in their best interest to help me.”

Her jaw drops at that, eyes searching his.

“Jealous, are we?”

“You’re using me.” She says without thinking. It was a fact she’d already been aware of, but so far had been too afraid to inspect for a variety of reasons.

“Yes, well I thought that was obvious.” He begins to trail after her, but now she does take a step back.

“Don’t worry, Anna, you’re not the first woman I’ve used, but you are the only one who’s become useful in way I never imagined possible.”

She grinds her teeth refusing to meet his gaze. She wants him to go. Not just out of her room, but her life. Things were so much simpler before he invaded every part of her.

“You’re a very special girl. And if you help me, before this is over, I will make sure you see how much. You will not feel invisible for much longer.”

He comes up quick then, before she can react, and his hand finds purchase on the back of her head, pressing a kiss to her forehead with such tenderness every muscle within her relaxes.

“We’ll talk more tomorrow, I can see you’re tired. Good night, pet.”


	7. Awakening

“Little did they know, the land belonged to a witch.”

Mary clutches Anna’s skirt as she sits in her lap, letting out a gasp. “Oh no, Anna, I don’t like witches.”

“Bloody hell Mary, it’s only a story.”

“ _John_ ,” Anna chides, slapping at his knee.

“I _know_ it’s only a story. I just don’t like stories with witches,” Mary explains to her brother, chin raised high with pride.

“Well then perhaps Anna should read the one about the wolf who eats the little girl?” John sneers.

She’s about to chastise him again, explain that his sister is only a child and there’s no reason to be so unkind. But before she can open her mouth a deep voice startles all three of them.

“I know that story.” Hall leans in the doorway, arms crossed and coatless, his shirtsleeves rolled up revealing his forearms. He looks about as carefree as one can. “From what I remember, it doesn’t end so well for the wolf.”

“What happens,” Mary asks with genuine curiosity, unaware of the awkwardness that has settled over them all with a strange man in the school room. Anna can feel John’s questioning glance asking why this man is here.

It’s a good question, as it’s wholly inappropriate for him to be in here, not to mention that he _demanded_ she keep the children away from him. Yet here he is, strutting in their room as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“I’ll tell it to you another time, poppet,” she intercedes before he can continue. Lifting Mary from her lap, she stands. “Can I help you, sir. I’m afraid I don’t know where the other gentlemen have gone.”

“Riding,” he answers plainly.

She’s unsure how to respond, as that was the only excuse for his presence that she could come up with on the spot. “Oh.”

She and the children watch as he begins a trip around the room, his long legs striding slowly as he scrutinizes his surroundings, picking up books only to read a few lines before setting them down again, glancing at the slates and sums on the desk as he passes by, and spinning the globe before finally leaning an arm atop it and finally coming to a stop in front of them.

“Why isn’t he in school,” Hall questions of John as if it were his right to.

“Anna thinks it’s better if I stay here,” John explains, chest puffed out like he’s defending her.

Hall turns to her, an expression of interest crossing his face. “Does she?”

She’s about to explain her decision, that growing up in an orphanage showed her how uncaring and even tormenting places meant for children can be. Then she remembers that this man has no say in the lives of these children, and she doesn’t have to answer for the choices she and their father make for them.

“I think a boy should be around other boys at this age, don’t you agree, Miss Smith.” The cold formality of her surname pains her in a way she doesn’t understand, yet it’s how it should’ve been all along, really.

_So why does it bother her?_

With a bravery she doesn’t feel, she stands tall against his direct gaze, daring her to collapse beneath it. “What you think doesn’t matter, sir. Now, do you need something or shall I call someone for you.”

She watches his expression as it alters from surprised and impressed to something darker and lustful. Something not at all appropriate for a school room, and she worries she may have made a disastrous mistake.

Hall takes a slow, methodical step forward, meant to make her cower, drop her eyes or step away. But she feels John as he stands closer beside her and she knows she has to be stronger here.

“Send them away, Anna,” Hall orders, quiet and calm, yet with a subdued darkness that makes her skin feel overwhelmingly sensitive, the fabric of her dress suddenly becoming too constricting, and the chill of the room making goose flesh appear down her arms. Or perhaps it was the way her name slid dangerously from his tongue as his eyes bore into her.

Her chest heaves in fear, anticipation, confusion. She doesn’t know. “This is their school room-”

“They’ve an entire manor and grounds to play in. Send them away. I won’t say it again.”

Stomach heavy within her, she nods obediently directing John and Mary from the room, hands firmly on their backs. “Outside, before it rains. Not too far.”

John begins to struggle against her, just enough to make her pause. “Anna,” he whispers, “I don’t want to leave you here. He doesn’t seem like the good sort.”

Her chest is so full she has to smile. Never in all her time spent as an unwanted child would she dream of someone to care for her the way these two do, sweet blue eyes peering up at her with worry and love.

She clears any emotion from her throat before speaking. “Nonsense, all will fine. I promise. Be sure to watch your sister.” And with that, she closes the door behind them, as quick as possible before they can begin reading all manner of things hiding behind her eyes.

The room is deathly quiet now, her heavy breathing and blood rushing within her the only sounds she can discern as she rests her forehead on the door. She doesn’t know what to do - what to expect.

“I know we spoke of your obedience, but we did not speak of respect.”

She slides around to face him, body leaning heavily against the door, legs feeling much too weak to hold her up.

“I thought it went without saying, pet.” Silence stretches long and taut between them. His eyes speak to her, but it’s as if it’s in a language she hasn’t yet learned. But she wants to, she admits to herself. Desperately.

Without a word, he takes hold of the back of a chair, moving it till it’s against the wall across the room from her. He sits leaning forward, arms resting on his thighs, hands clasped loosely between his knees. He appears like a disappointed father. He swallows hard before speaking, the only show of him being affected.

“On your knees.” The order comes out easy and polite, as if they’re speaking of pleasant, chaste things. But that only makes it all the more exhilarating.

It takes a moment for her to decide, and like a gentleman, he gives her the time she needs, until inch by inch, door holding her all the way, she slides down, grey grown fanning out around her like a pool, and she at the center. The lady of the lake.

“Now, crawl to me.”

Her heart beats furious and free, and she can hardly breathe, chest so overwhelmed by the complexities and weight of emotions rising within her. Carefully, she bends forward, hands finding the solid wood of the floor. She takes another moment to breathe, to calm herself, and to push away all thoughts scrambling for purchase in her mind till finally, all’s quiet.

She peeks up as she begins her trek, entire body aflame at the sight of the man before her, staring at her with serious, enigmatic eyes, and taking in her every movement like oxygen.

She trips up twice, knees crawling on her skirt, forcing her to right herself before continuing. She assumes him to be smirking or laughing at her every time she looks back up, but his face never changes, continuing to wait for her patiently.

She stares at his boots when she reaches him. The idea of catching his eyes in this moment, too much. But of course, he requests it. That seems to be all this man does to her, pushing boundaries and limits she didn’t know she had. Forcing her to face not only fears but herself as well.

“Look at me.” When their eyes meet he inhales deep, nose flaring, and she sees the beat of his heart beneath his loose cravat, just as wild and helpless as hers. And she feels suddenly powerful in a way she never has before.

He helps ease her up off her hands so she’s sitting on her legs, neck having a much better time of it.

“From now on,” he starts, voice gravely with need, “you will not only show obedience to me, but respect as well. And every time you do not, you will be punished.”

He’s quiet, scrutinizing her face as he allows his words to sink in. She doesn’t know what he finds, she couldn’t tell him if she wanted to, her mind and body suspended in a surreal place, a place she never knew existed, and it’s stolen all her thoughts. But he seems satisfied with whatever he sees there.

He trails the back of his fingers down her cheek, gliding so soft and slow it makes her sigh, pushing her face into his touch. His thumb caresses her bottom lip, back and forth until her mouth is open and panting. He must see it as an invitation, slipping his thumb inside across her wet tongue and a sound comes from deep within her, a breathless needy sound that makes her blush.

He presses his thumb down harder, making her grunt as her tongue slides against his finger. She has an overwhelming urge to close her lips around him. When she does, his eyes go wide and his breath catches, and her worry of being laughed at disappears.

“You can be quite the good girl, can’t you.” He slips his thumb from her mouth then begins maneuvering her to his side. “I’ll keep that in mind. But now it’s time for you to face the consequences of your actions, yes?”

She doesn’t know what to say, so she doesn’t say anything.

“Don’t be afraid, pet,” he murmurs into her ear, making her shiver, before bending her over his lap.

Then it’s like her senses return to her as she begins to see where this is heading, panic taking hold. “No sir, please,” she begins to repeat, turning her head over her shoulder to catch his attention, but he’s already lifting her skirts and petticoats onto her back, only her split leggings to cover her.

“No,” she cries out harder, struggling against his hold. “No sir, please stop!”

But he’s strong, one hand holding her skirts along her back and pressing her down against his thighs, while the other comes around against her cheek.

“Anna! Anna, calm yourself,” he tries to soothe, but it’s too much, too embarrassing as she feels the cool draft against her bare skin, her sensitive flesh wet and throbbing while on display for anyone to see.

“Robert, please.” Tears begin to form at the thought of someone walking in, seeing parts of her no one ever should. “Please, please let me go.”

“This is meant to be your punishment, silly girl,” he explains with force, pupils blown making his eyes appear black. “If you insist on disobeying, you will be punished twice.” That makes her stop, cheeks wet with frantic tears as she closes her eyes, head turning to once again hang over him. “Wise decision.”

She feels the heat of him before his actual touch, hand caressing her reverently over her leggings. Her body is stiff and aching, the tension of so much buildup beginning to boil over. Then his hand slips under the split fabric, skin on skin as he continues to caress her. She sighs as the blood begins rushing to her head, fingers holding onto his thigh for dear life as she rides out these new sensations.

A gasp escapes her when his fingers probe lower, deeper, and she slams her eyes shut tight trying to hold herself still despite a desperate ache to move with him somehow.

“You’re being a very good girl.” His words of praise make her feel as if she’s glowing, muscles easing along with her erratic breath. Then she feels his searching finger push inside and she squeaks at the sensation, jaw dropping and body becoming taut all over again.

“Robert,” she breathes, not knowing what else to do. Mind gone with only panic and pleasure left to spill over.

He only answers with soft _shh’s_ and _such a good girl’s_ as he begins a rhythm of pushing and pulling within her, breaking her down with every slide of his finger. She presses her face into her arm, trying to ignore the embarrassment of how wet she feels, at how much _he_ can feel, what he thinks of it, and of the obscene sound it makes as he works soft, breathy moans from her.

“Jesus, pet.” He also sounds breathless, she thinks, chest rising and falling fast against her, helping to ease the embarrassment some.

Finger slipping out, she can feel the wet trail as he travels lower. But before she has time to be disappointed at the loss of him, she’s gasping at this touch in a new place. He rolls his fingers sweetly against her in alternating light and hard, fast and slow circles, till she’s struggling against him - or perhaps with him. Her whole self has begun to disappear, all that remains of her is this one point he caresses with diligence.

“Please. Please.” Her lusty pants seem to stir him on, moving over her faster and harder. Finger invading again, but this time it’s more, stretching and burning and marvelously full.

“Such a good girl, pet. So good for me.”

She tries to hold back her broken moans, biting her hand - she thinks she tastes blood - but it’s useless, unable to control them or their volume.

And then she’s falling, no longer able to balance on the precipice of such extreme passion and overstimulating sensations. She’s thrown into herself once again with a sharp _slap_ , making her jump in Hall’s lap with squeak. She turns back to see him, just in time to watch as he lands another blow against her backside.

“Robert?” she questions, head full of cobwebs as she tries to make sense of what’s happening.

“From now on, how will you treat me?” His voice is strict and low, and before she can completely recover she’s greeted with another smack.

It stings, making her cry out, but it also begins to sober her up, blunt nails digging into his thigh as she comes to her senses. “With obedience,” she breathes.

_Smack_

“And what else?”

Her teeth bite into the sensitive flesh of her lip as she tries to prepare for the next hit.

_Smack_

“What _else_?”

He sounds angry now, and it sends a thrill up her spine, part of her not wanting to give in, part of her wanting to see how far _she_ can push _him_.

_Smack_

It hurts for certain, but she can’t stop the moans she releases. When he hears it she feels fingers slide into her mussed hair, clutching hard enough for her to feel a sweet sting.

“Answer me, Anna. Be a good girl.”

She wants to refuse, wants to make him drag it out of her so she can hear his growls and huffs and pants of his own. But the reminder of his gentleness too, changes her mind.

“Respect,” she breathes. “I’ll treat you with respect, sir.” Head turned, she makes sure to lock eyes with him when she says it, and she sees a fire there, sees that his usually pale face is pink and flush and alive. And it feels empowering to see him so undone and unraveled just because of her.

His hold loosens, and he helps ease her up from his lap, skirts sliding down on their own. She bites back the pain, not only from the stings on her backside but also her body after being so long in this odd position.

Together they move her between his legs, nuzzling her face into his neck as she clutches at his collar, cooing when he smooths a trembling hand down her disheveled hair.

“I think this is going to be a lovely beginning, pet.”


	8. Give Me Shadows

Anna gasps, rooted in place in alarm at the swift opening of the door. A heavy breath flows out when she sees it’s only Hall.

“Anything?” he questions with impatience.

“No.” She turns back to the wardrobe, continuing her search. “Nothing. Just as the last two rooms.” She watches him from the corner of her eye, he looks healthier lately, not so deathly pale, the dark circles beneath his eyes fading some. “It might help if you tell me what it is we’re searching for.”

“I told you,” he says with an irritated shake of his head as he lifts a portrait - of a rather gloomy looking man in black - from the wall.

Her eyes roll. “Ah right, an elephant.”

His hands pause while feeling the brown paper behind the painting, eyeing her with warning. “A coat of arms, pet. A deed.”

She stares right back, unafraid. She thinks she’s figured him. “Well, now I know everything.”

Hall blinks, turning away to carefully rehang the portrait, hands coming to his hips as he appears to study it.

She knows better.

“You don’t need to know anything,” he whispers with menace.

“So you don’t trust me.”

He looks at her sharply, frowning and baffled. “This isn’t about trust.”

“I disagree.” They stand that way, opposing sides of the room, air thick with an electrifying mix of desire and intensity. “I don’t think we should continue”

Hall takes a step forward, expression already changing into one of placation. “It may not be in this room, or the other two we’ve searched, but it _is in this house_.”

She almost wants to smirk. “I mean us. What was started in the school room. I don’t think we should continue.”

His glowering face reappears quickly as he takes slow steps toward her. “I’m sorry, are you trying to punish me into giving you what you want, pet?”

His fingers are rough when he takes hold of her chin, making her nose flare at the pinch. If he’s not careful, he’ll leave marks, but she’s sure he doesn’t mind that. If anything, he’d probably enjoy watching to see if Marriott notices it.

He lifts her head higher towards his face, almost making her stand on her toes. “Because I can have whatever I want from you, _whenever_ I want, yes?”

They don’t really have time for this. Mr. Marriott and the others are due back any moment now, but these last few days of reflecting over their time in the school room has given her some idea of what’s happening, and what she wants. And even allowing herself to think about her needs has her heart hammering with excitement.

He grins, one corner of his lips raised higher than the other, giving him an arrogant look as his pupils begin to dilate. “I think you enjoy it when tell you what to do.” His other hand holds fast onto her hip, pressing her closer and leaning in, sharing the air between them. “I think you enjoy being punished,” he whispers smooth and dangerous as his eyes have gone.

Her traitorous gaze flicks down at his lips as she forces her arms to continue hanging at her sides, despite the desperation to touch him. “I despise you.”

It’s said without malice, or any truth to it at all, not that she really tried, but it causes his smile to widen with humor, no longer making him appear like some threatening highwayman.

He tilts his head, his too long hair falling across his brow. He’s been raking his fingers through it again if its messy state is anything to go by. “But that’s not what I said, is it Anna?”

The sound of her name coming from him has her softening in every way, and he releases his hold on her chin in response, caressing the sore skin there before sliding his hand up to cup her jaw. The gentleness of it makes her eyes flutter as she sighs. “You don’t understand it, do you?”

“Understand what?”

“You feel powerful when I bend under your will. In control.” She’s been wanting to talk about this for days, instead she’s mulled over her thoughts in her bed, while she taught, while she ate, while she read. It’s safe to say, it’s been on her mind during her every waking moment. “Do you feel a lack of it in life? Is that why you enjoy it?”

His adams apple bobs nervously in his throat before quickly breaking all contact with her, stepping back and turning away. Hiding.

“Just because I enjoy telling a woman what to do in bed, doesn’t mean anything about my life, or any lack of control in it.”

The suggestion of him having a similar relationship with other women is meant to hurt - to push her away. But it does just the opposite, knowing that he’s lashing out only because she’s struck a nerve.

“Perhaps not. But you still don’t understand.”

He turns around sharply, face red and teeth bared as he sneers at her. “Praise tell, oh wise woman? Please enlighten me, simple Anna. What the fuck are you talking about?”

It’s now she who follows him, eyes open and face clear as she tries to explain her thoughts. “In the school room I was scared. And for a few moments even, I let it overcome me.” She pauses, wanting to take his hand but thinks better of it.

“But I saw you,” she proclaims, strong and determined as she steps even closer. “I felt you. Your heavy breathing as I lay across you. Your rapid pulse as it skipped hard and fast within your delicate throat.” She wets her lips at the memory, enjoying how his gaze catches the movement, eyes lingering there. “You were under my control as much as I was under yours.”

“No,” he whispers, coming out shaky and parched. “That’s not how it works.”

“Don’t you see? It’s not about who has control. You may be stronger physically, but you’re just as weak as me when I’m around you.”

With that she comes up fast, pressing up on the balls of her feet to sink her fingers into his hair, clutching hard at the blond locks before tugging at them meanly. A thrill shoots through her, straight down between her legs at the sight and sound of his wince followed immediately by a groan.

“You see, I think it’s about trust, sir,” she says in her sweetest voice, hand dragging slowly down his chest as he watches her with fascination. “And even though you’ve given me no reason to, I trust you, and I think you _enjoy_ it.”

He’s practically panting now, hooked on her every word and movement. And, she notes with a wicked sort of happiness, not breaking out of her hold, despite his absolute ability to do so. “You’re wrong.”

Her brows raise. “It frightens you, what I’ve said?”

“Nothing frightens me,” he growls, though it’s rather unconvincing truth be told.

“Everyone is frightened by something.” She begins to slide her hand lower, eyes flickering between it and his face, unsure. She’s never touched a man like this before, never had one so willing to be at her mercy, and as exhilarating as this is, she feels silly and naive in her ignorance.

It’s the desperate look of need on his face, along with the sight of his pulse under his, once again, loose cravat that gives her the courage. Her hand finishes its journey, trembling fingers exploring him through his trousers. He lets out a harsh breath, eyes closing as his nose flares. The tips of his ears turn pink and she has a strange desire to bite it.

She leans in close after giving another small tug at his hair, lips just barely caressing his as she speaks “I don’t believe you’re as uncaring and monstrous as you let on, sir. I think you have your own monsters that you’re trying to trick into believing you are meaner than you are.”

“Anna,” he groans, low and wanting. His eyes are closed, and she watches with fascination as they move beneath the lids, too overwhelmed to look at her.

“Why are we here?” she questions without being given a reply. “What are you searching for so desperately?”

When he continues to stay silent, she squeezes him, making him grunt. She blinks with surprise when she feels a twitch. Her chest feels tight, her stomach twisting and center drenched. She takes a deep breath to take hold of herself.

“Trust me, Robert,” she urges, the earnestness of it making him look at her. “Let me help you fight your monsters.”


	9. It Plagues My Soul

“Anna.”

She’s taken aback by the voice. Not expecting him of all people to be here, despite the fact that it is his house. “Mr. Marriott.”

She blinks away the surprise, setting the school work on the table. “I’m sorry, the children aren’t here. Mary’s nursemaid-“

Marriott raises a hand kindly, coming into the room with a strange apprehension. “Oh no, no. I’m here to see you.” She can’t help the bewildered expression that appears on her face. Never has her Master ever come to see her, the children, yes, but not her. Always just sending a servant to fetch her to wherever he was. She came to him, in all ways.

“I’m afraid we last parted on... bad terms-“

The memory of his yelling and disgust with her in his study just a few day before has her cheeks flaming with embarrassment. “Sir-“

“No,” he interrupts gently, stepping closer, “please, allow me to finish.”

She stands straight, willing her spine to harden as never before. The uncertainty of what’s coming making her feel as if she’s drowning.

“Anna, I owe you an apology.” And whatever it was she was preparing herself for, it certainly wasn’t that.

“What happened that day in the billiards room, was not your fault. And even though I knew it then, as I do now, still I took my misplaced anger out on you. You did not deserve such severe treatment. And... I am ashamed even remembering it.”

She’s stunned into silence for a time, an awkward quiet filling between them. “I hold no animosity towards you,” she finally says. And it was true. Despite all that’s happened, and what she’s learned in these last few days, she truly believes he is still a good man. “I did wrong-“

“You did no such thing, Miss Smith. The truth is, I am to blame for it all, I’m afraid.”

That was news, and despite Robert’s explanation the night before, she couldn’t help but feel there was something he hadn’t told her. “Sir?”

“Hall is... an unhealthy man. Haunted, and driven by a hate for me.”

That much she now knew, but it still made no real sense. “I don’t understand, then why invite him here if you know how much he dislikes you?”

“Because I am also haunted,” he admits with a sad smile. “As you’ve no doubt guessed, we share a dark past. Though my feelings towards him are colored more by guilt than hate.”

“Guilt, Sir,” she prompts with a raging curiosity she tries to tamp down.

“Sometimes, when you are fortunate in life, as I have been, you can carry the burden of your happiness when those you greatly care for have not been so lucky.”

She frowns, his ‘admission’ not really explaining or confirming anything. And for perhaps the first time, she sees that Mr. Marriott is as cunning with his words as Robert is. Maybe these two men are more alike than she first thought.

“You feel guilty because you are happy, and he is not?”

He opens his mouth to add to it, but obviously decides against it. “In its simplest form, yes.”

“That seems...”

“Ridiculous?”

She tilts her head. “A bit.”

“I pity him, Miss Smith. He’s had a hard time of it. I’ve tried to help, but...”

“You cannot help those who refuse it.”

He watches her with some emotion before affirming. “Exactly. So, his actions towards you that day, were simply a way to hurt me. I knew this, and I allowed my anger to get the best of me. You were an innocent party to it all. And again, I apologize.”

This is all a bit surreal as she tries to take hold of it. “I still don’t understand. How did he come to a conclusion that using me would hurt you? I’m merely your governess.”

He swallows deep, eyeing the rug beneath him for a time. “Miss Smith, you-“ His face tells of so many words but an inability to express them. “Anna, you really don’t know?”

She thinks she does now, thanks to Robert, but the very thought of it is too unbelievable.

“Of course you don’t,” he whispers with a reverence that leaves her short of breath. “You are so sweet. So fresh and naive.”

“I’m no fool,” she fires at him, trying to hide the giddiness his words are causing her. How many times had she lain in her bed, and dreamed of this man saying such soft words to her.

“No,” he agrees. “Far from it.” His eyes behold her in a way that has her pressing her fingertips atop the desk between them, whether to keep balance or to ground herself she’s not sure.

“Your intelligence is part of your loveliness.”

She shakes her head minutely. This is wrong, she thinks, feeling her world shift around her. How could she not have _seen_ this before?

He must notice her distress, reaching out to rest a warm hand over hers as he leans closer. “Please, Anna, do not fear coming to me if Hall insists on bothering you further. I am his friend, whether he believes it or not, but I won’t allow him to drag you into his childish schemes to anger me.”

She doesn’t know what else to do but nod weakly, trying to unravel the twisted strings of this story between these two men, and understand her part in it without getting herself hurt in the process. It was an impossible task made even more so when her body kept betraying her.

He stops abruptly at the door, turning as if he’d suddenly remember something. “Oh, and I have thought about John’s schooling. Perhaps you were right all those weeks ago. Perhaps another year or two before sending him away would indeed be better.” It takes her a moment to even recall the conversation they had of John going away to Eton. It seemed so long ago now.

“I know how much you’d miss your favorite pupil.”

With that he was gone, leaving her with yet another thing to think about. Was that the real reason she insisted on John staying with her? Was she merely being selfish? Her time in the orphanage truly did make her wary of allowing John and Mary to leave, but what if she was only hurting them in the end?

She dropped down in her chair with a sigh, wishing she could sleep for years.

—————

_The day prior_

—————

“Trust me, Robert. Let me help you fight your monsters.”

He watches her for a moment, and she can see his mind working as he tries to fight through his lust to think. While she still has her hand set upon him, she doesn’t move it, doesn’t try to feel the outline of the prominent bulge under her fingers despite aching to do just that. She lets him have his time to decide, to trust her.

He exhales heavily through his nose, coming to some kind of decision. The hand she has in his hair releases him from its cruel grasp, sliding down to hold his jaw.

His sharp features fascinate her as her finger follows the line of his jaw absentmindedly. When she thinks of men, she thinks of large and brutish, thick and boorish. And, she admits with a smile, he still has quite a few of those qualities, yet his features seem almost delicate yet cutting, eyes piercing and cat like, nose long and thin. His masculinity shows in an appearance of a lean, cunning virility.

He takes the hand she has between his legs, raising it to his lips with a kiss. “Alright.”

And she can’t stop the way her eyes widen nor the large smile that spreads slowly across her face. He snorts in return, eyes rolling.

“Tonight. I’ll visit you in your room, and tell you all about monsters, pet.”

“My room?” She knows it’s ridiculous to be so worried about proprietary considering, he’s not only snuck into her room at night once before, but also touched her in ways that long crossed over any line society thought moral.

But worry over appearances and morality are difficult chains to free yourself from. She wonders if she even truly wants to be free? And if so, how will she end up at the end of all this?

“Be ready,” he whispers into her ear before sliding away from her, leaving her, but not before giving her one last, devilish smirk.

—————

She tries her best to stay awake, keeping herself busy with setting a fire and looking over some of the children’s schoolwork. But time continues to drag, and the warmth of the fire along with the mechanical, repetitive ticking of the clock has her eyes feeling heavier with each click.

She lifts her eyes open against their will at the caress she feels along her hairline, sighing tiredly as she blinks away the grogginess from her mind.

Robert kneels before her as she sits slumped in her chair, his expressions unreadable as he watches her. “I told you to be ready, pet.”

“I waited,” she explains, voice heavy and a bit slurred with drowsiness. “I couldn’t wait anymore.”

His thumb traces down to her lips, caressing the bottom one lightly, making her remember the last time he did that, and she swallows deeply. “That’s not what I mean.”

She’s too tired to try and understand, looking to the still burning embers in her fireplace as he stands. So it’s not been too long, she thinks.

Taking her hands, he helps her raise from her chair, her quilt falling between them. He leads her to the end of her bed without a word, her heart beginning to drum hard in her chest, pushing the blood with in her faster, and waking her from her drowsy state quickly.

Surprisingly, he turns her around, facing away from him. She realizes she can see their reflection in the mirror beside her wardrobe, and she watches with bated breath as he lifts his hands, fingers pulling out pin after pin in her hair, eventually uncoiling it from the bun she rolls it into everyday. Her tensions begin to ease with the quietness of the moment, and the attentive steadiness of his fingers.

He works on her braids next, patiently releasing her brown strands till they hang loose and free around her. He catches her gaze in the mirror, smoothing her long hair over her shoulder. Cool fingers glide back, the wide neck of her dress allowing him access to her skin, making her shiver. He caresses his knuckles down her neck until he reaches the dress edge, and his eyes catch hers once more when he begins to release the hooks hidden down the back of the fabric.

She knows she should end this now. It would be the right thing to do, but she’s tired of doing the right thing. She’d never understood it while sitting in church, listening to the pastor drone on about the wicked desires of the flesh. She’d fancied boys and men, but never before now has she been unable to stop what she knew was wrong, despite her desires. She could no longer even remember what was so wrong and sinful about it.

Robert rolls the dress down, allowing it to pool at her feet, pressing a soft kiss on her back as he stands. “You’re awfully quiet, pet,” he observes as he unties layer after layer of petticoats.

She tilts her head, suddenly feeling a calm wash over her. “You promised answers.”

“Did I,” he asks nonchalantly without looking up. “I don’t remember that.”

She huffs, eyes narrowing, and she wants to kiss the stupid smirk that appears on his lips. After a ruffle of petticoats fall to the floor he leans in, kissing gently at the crook between her shoulder and neck.

“Marriott was my commander,” he begins, breath heavy and hot as it washes across her back. His hands are at her waist over her stays, smoothing up her sides then back down again, before making their way behind to begin untying the laces with a slow ease.

“Like him, I was a younger son, so I paid my way to become an officer.”

She’d known little about Mr. Marriott’s time under the King’s colors, other than that he had been.

“He was my Captain when our regiment was sent to Ceylon, a Crown Colony.”

“The island off the coast of India,” she questions. He gives a tight nod, and she feels the tension within him begin to build slowly, word by word, his breathing comes a bit faster, his expression becoming harder. The quick drag and snap of the laces as he undoes them only adds to it, and she’s almost frightened of how this story will end.

“It was miserable. Hot and humid, and the rain seemed endless some months. But it was an easy post, and Marriott seemed to be a good Captain.”

Finished, he lets her stays drop, sighing at the sight of her in just her chemise and leggings. Lifting her chemise, she begins to untie the leggings beneath, eyes locked with his in the mirror as she does it.

“What happened,” she asks, leggings falling before turning to face him. “What happened between you two?”

He motions for her to sit on the bed as he kneels in front of her, setting her foot on his leg before sliding a palm up her calf.

“There’d been problems with a central territory -Kandy - for decades.” He began untying the silk garter, and she felt it as his hands trembled, pulling down her hose. “They’d successfully kept British rule at bay - Dutch before that.”

“It was a heavily forested, wet, mountainous terrain they knew and we didn’t. But we wanted it, badly.”

He began to start on her other leg. “Their King, or whatever the hell he was, was quite mad. A nasty piece of work. Torture had become the norm in his kingdom.”

“We’d gotten word that he’d taken a group of British traders prisoner, and as lieutenant, Marriott ordered me to take my platoon and save these men. So I did.”

Her legs now bare, Robert seems to take the time to enjoy the feel of her skin, hands running up her calves. When he gets behind her knees he pulls her legs apart, just wide enough for him to get between.

She’s barely breathing now, not wanting to break the fragile atmosphere that seems to have settled around them. Her stomach feels tight, nipples sensitive with every brush of the thin fabric she wears.

“What happened next,” she asks breathlessly. Because she wants to know. She wants to know what happened to him, what happened between him Marriott. But she’s also hoping talk of reality and the world outside this room will keep her from losing all sense.

He lays his forehead against hers, wrapping her legs around his middle. “Robert,” she whines softly, because everything seems to be happening too fast and too slow at the same time.

Dragging his forehead against her temple, he releases another heavy breath, as if he’s preparing himself. “I entered Kandy, set on doing my duty and rescuing these men. But before I could we were set upon by our enemy.”

She leans back quick to look at him, suddenly worried.

“They caught us. Dragged us into a village and began their torture.”

“You were tortured,” she asks, horrified at the images playing in her head.

“No. My men were tortured. In front of me, as I was tied to a post and forced to watch.” He smiles as he stares over her shoulder, a cruel, sardonic smirk. “I was left relatively unharmed after all my men had been murdered. And then I was sent on my way into the wilderness, where I proceeded to become lost.”

“But why? Why would they let you go.”

Robert shrugged in a disturbing, carefree way. “Presumably to tell my superiors of the horrors I’d witnessed, to scare them into staying out. But it didn’t matter, since we never returned my commanders assumed the worst.” He clicks his tongue, looking at her, open for him and wearing nothing but a thin shift, but even so, he wasn’t really seeing her.

“It was just what they wanted. What they planned for.”

She shakes her head, not wanting to know.

“They needed an excuse to attack with full force, and the news of twenty of her majesty’s bravest men being killed, on nothing more than a rescue mission, was a very good excuse.”

She could do nothing but watch him with shock, not knowing what to say. Blinking away tears, she lifts her hands, bracketing his face. “And you?”

“I was presumed dead with my men. But found later, wishing I was.”

She leans in, kissing him chastely, trying not to think too hard about how relieved she is that he’s here with her now. She shivers at the feel of his hand steadily making its way up her thigh, lifting the hem of her chemise with it.

“Robert-”

“Now, now, pet,” he breathes into her mouth, biting her bottom as he uses his body to push her back onto the bed. “I’ve told you my sad story as promised.”

“Will you be good for me tonight?”

She squeezes her legs harder around him. “Yes, sir.”


	10. I Want it All (or not at all)

“Lift your chemise. Let me see you, pet.”

She feels her heart beat between her legs, her mouth dry as she begins to pant. Eyes focused on the ceiling, she reaches down, taking handfuls of the thin shift that covers her and raising it. Inch by inch, her skin is unveiled to him, breath rushing faster as the thoughts in her mind shout so loud over each other, she unable to even understand them anymore.

Using Robert as leverage, she uses the locked ankles crossed behind him to raise her hips from the bed, pulling her shift higher until it bunches up low around her belly. Her thighs tremble, and she feels slightly nauseous with anxiety.

“You’re beautiful, pet. Do you know that?”

She rolls her head in a daze, her hair scratching against the duvet.

“Shall I tell you?

Her eyes slide shut as she licks her lips, fingers still holding tightly to the fabric around her hips. Robert unhooks her legs from around him, spreading them as he lets them hang over his arms.

“Shall I describe your glistening cunt?” She feels his chapped lips on her inner thigh, tongue warm against her skin.

“Flush and pink and wanting.”

A whimper escapes her, and fear runs loose within, but excitement does too, coming together in a tumultuous kind of binding.

“Are you frightened,” he asks into her skin, mouth moving down ever so slowly.

“No,” she whines, wholly unbelievable, even to her own ears.

He chuckles, a huff of air so close to her center it causes her to unconsciously press her legs together, only to find Robert’s biceps between them. He smoothes a hand low across her belly, the heel adding pressure before gently kneading the area, stimulating something within.

She sucks in a breath, holding it as she tries to wrap her mind around the strange things her body can make her feel. Things she didn’t even know existed.

But before she can even get too far in her thoughts she feels his mouth there, sucking on her gently then releasing her with a _pop._

She sucks in another breath, this one released quickly with a tiny cry of shock. And then he’s somehow even deeper, his wet tongue gliding around and inside and it’s absolutely obscene and wrong and perfect. She’s not even aware of her hand clutching at his hair until she must give a rather sharp tug, making him grunt inside her.

“Robert,” she cries. She thinks she might hear herself say it multiple times but she can’t really be sure, her senses all seeming to be burning much too hot for them to work properly. His tongue takes a long lick up, just below the still massaging heel of his hand, and he finds that point, yet again, the one that makes her feel like her skin is on fire while her consciousness is floating.

Foolishly, she peers down the soft plane of her body, just in time to see his wet lips take her between them and suck hard. Her eyes shut tight, head bouncing back into the bed. “Oh, god!”

Then his tongue begins dancing over her devilishly when she feels his finger slip inside, quickly joined by another. He presses down hard on her hip to keep her still, almost painful, but she can barely recognize it as she squirms against him, heels digging into him and body trying to simultaneously both devour and escape his torturous touch.

Then his mouth is gone and his body is hovering over her, all while his fingers circle and pull and fill and play down between them. “You taste marvelous, pet,” he pants into her face, forehead dropping atop hers. “Like the most decadent dessert.”

“No, I- I- Robert. Please.”

“Beg me. Beg me to make you cum, Anna.”

She’s too overwhelmed to try and understand his words, mouth open wide in a silent cry while her body bows tight, chest pressing up into Robert’s, vaguely feeling a sting on her neck as he bites the delicate skin there.

When she comes back down, the first thing she’s aware of is her emotions, chest and mind absolutely overflowing with them. With a gasp she buries the heel of her palms into her eyes, holding back the burning tears, trying to regain control over herself.

The next thing she’s aware of is the throbbing, sated feeling washing throughout her, making her body feel heavy and lethargic.

Robert nuzzles the side of her face, leaving sweet, open-mouthed kisses on her temple, her cheek, her jaw, her ear. “How are you now, pet,” he questions quietly, caressing between her legs with barely there touches.

“La petite mort,” is the only response she gives with a sigh.

It takes him a second, holding still against her before he snorts, laughter coming out deep and infectious, making her smile. “Always the governess. Yes, I suppose it is a death of sorts. Though this one is worth it, perhaps.”

She cocks her head, trying to appear serious. “Perhaps.”

Eyes turning dark, yet with a playful gleam he seems unable to hide, he takes hold of her jaw, long fingers holding her firmly there. “You’re quite the little wench when you wish to be.”

“You don’t like it,” she asks, biting her lip as she toys with the fabric of her shift.

He raises his brows, smile coming easy yet sly. “On the contrary,” he starts, finger reaching to free her lip before tracing the sensitive skin all around, “I quite enjoy your smart mouth.”

His eyes burn for her, low, like embers but ready to catch fire at any moment.

“Why do hate Mr. Marriott?”

The question catches him off guard, mind obviously somewhere very different. But he’s so deviously shrewd, that times such as now, with his head full of a passionate need, and body longing for release, are the only times when she has him on an even playing field.

He looks down at her, silent and with an expression of utter dismay. She can also be cunning, and she wonders if he’s realizing how much he’s underestimated her.

“I’ve told you,” he says quietly, words laced with an anger he tries to hide.

“Not really. Not about Marriott. Not about the deed-“

He clenches his jaw, turning away from her before pushing himself off the bed with an irritated huff. “Jesus, Anna.”

She pulls her shift down as she sits up, watching him with a wariness as he stares down into the now cold fireplace. “What more do you want?”

Thinking for a moment, she considers apologizing, asking him to come back to bed, but this is too important. If he expects her to help him, she refuses to do it without knowing why.

“Everything,” she answers, soft yet steady. “I want to know everything.”

He looks at her over his shoulder with a strange mix of fear and bewilderment before turning around completely. “Who are you Anna Smith,” he asks slowly - accusingly.

She frowns, confused by his reaction.

He strides back to her, leaning over so they’re on eye level. His are curious as well as dangerous, and she has the sudden urge to crawl away from him. “You’re very determined to play in the dark corners of my mind, little schoolgirl.”

She raises her chin, back straight as she returns his stare. “It’s only fair. You did try to play with mine. Or do you stand by your earlier assessment of my being stupid as well as unattractive?”

He gives a mean huff of laughter, and her belly is absolutely quaking as the rest of her trembles, but she holds still with determination. She didn’t wish to provoke him to such hostilities, but she refuses to be a mindless puppet, merely because he’s made her feel things no one else has. If he wishes to tell all about how sinful and wanton she is, then he can do just that.

“Perhaps you were right,” he says, standing, looking down on her with disappointment. “Perhaps we should end this.”

She does her best not to show any emotion, eyes locked with his for an uncomfortable amount of time, the air thick with a virulent bitterness and heady arousal.

She expects him to slam the door, but somehow the soft click behind him is worse. She sits alone and cold, staring into the darkness of her room, trying to understand what just happened.

—————

She keeps an eye out for him the next day, both wishing to avoid him at any cost as well as march up to his room and demand they finish their conversation.

And despite not at all trying to keep herself or the children out of site, she never sees him. She sees Marriott’s party leave for a hunt, sees them return and prepare for dinner, but never once does she see _him._

After whispering her good nights to John and Mary, she makes her way down the dark hall, her candle held aloft to light her way.

She broods along her walk, wondering if he’s left completely. Would he do that? Leave without saying a word? She releases a soft laugh in the quiet darkness. Why wouldn’t he? They’ve only known each other for a handful of days, despite their intimacy. And they owed each other nothing.

Turning the corner, her jaw drops as she comes to a stand still, nearly walking right into a pair of bodies. Her heart seizes in her chest, her breath leaving her as she jolts at the cry from the servants.

“Oh ma’am, I’m so sorry! So sorry!”

After her panic has calmed, she finally understands what exactly she’s walked in on. Tom the footman and Martha the servant, huddled against each other, trying desperately to right their clothes in the darkened alcove.

With only her candle to provide light, it’s difficult to see, but she’s certain they’re blushing as they scramble to right themselves during their incessant apologies.

“The nursery is just down the hall,” she whispers curtly, “what on earth are you thinking?”

She tries not to chide herself about the fact that just the other day she’d done similar, and in the children’s school room no less.

“Please, ma’am,” Martha begs when she comes up to her, head bowed and face grave. “Please don’t say anything. Mrs. Flynn will dismiss me for sure.”

After easing their worries and accepting their undying gratitude, as well as promises to never try this sort of thing out in the open or near the children again, she watches as they move fast to disappear into the darkness.

Without thinking, she reaches out, quickly grabbing Martha by the elbow, halting her escape.

“Ma’am,” the young servant questions, swallowing nervously after watching Tom’s retreating back, leaving her to her fate.

Anna wants to laugh with bitterness at the sight of yet another man running away from his lover. Are all men like this?

Her attention back on Martha, she scowls at the anxious girl, hoping a show of authority forces her to answer her questions.

“I was wondering if you knew about one of Mr. Marriott’s guests?”

“His guests, ma’am?”

“The tall man. Robert Hall. Has he left?”

She knows she needs to be careful, surely talk of what happened in the billiards room had gotten to the servants, not to mention the many heated looks between she and Robert throughout the last few days, but hopefully, in her fear of getting outed, Martha will keep any suspicious inquiries Anna makes, to herself.

Martha shakes her head, brows furrowed in confusion. “I- I- don’t believe so, ma’am.”

Anna releases a breath, hating how much it feels like relief. She swallows hard, deciding to push her luck further. “Where is he then? I’ve not seen him all day.”

Martha gives her a knowing look, as if confirming certain suspicions. Anna stands straighter, holding her shoulders back whilst looking as imposing as she can with her short stature.

Martha drops her gaze, and the confidence it gives her spurs her on. “Do you know something, Martha?”

“I was told not to tell, ma’am.”

Anna frowns, hoping this girl can feel her glare. “Well, you will tell me. Or I will unfortunately be forced to have a discussion with Mrs. Flynn.”

Her head raises quick, panic setting on her face. “No ma’am, please! My family needs this money-“

“Then talk!”

Martha looks at her with something akin to hate before giving in. “Mr. Marriott ordered Mrs. Flynn to periodically check on the man as he finishes out his visit in his room.”

“Why?”

“According to Mr. Marriott, he is unwell. Quite ill apparently, enough that he and Mrs. Flynn discussed going for the doctor.”

Her stomach knots. If they meant to get him a doctor he must truly be ill, not just sulking in his room. But how did it come about so quickly?

“Why hasn’t he come yet? It’s been an entire day.”

Martha looks around, as if searching for any eavesdroppers hiding in the inky blackness around them. Anna rolls her eyes.

“Because he’s not truly ill. I may have heard mention of opium.”

Her brain seems to quit, surprised at first until she really thinks about it. The paleness, the dark circles, and the lethargy she sometimes noticed. The man was self-medicating his demons away.

Anna grabs the girl’s arm, squeezing tight. “On pain of death, you do not speak to anyone about this.”

“No, ma’am.”

“Good,” she nods, not all that confident in Martha’s assurance to keep quiet. “Now, go.”

After the girl runs off, Anna turns towards the stairs, determined to confront this stupidity herself.


	11. An Unfortunate Slight

The sweet scent of flowers invades Anna’s senses when she opens the door, permeating the small room, and no doubt clinging to the sheets and curtains as strong as it is.

She closes the door behind her, careful of any noise and squeak of its hinges.

With soft steps she walks straight to the bed, eyeing the unmoving form of Robert in nothing but his thin shirt, the slow rise and fall of his chest the only proof he’s even alive.

His pale skin, blonde hair, and white shirt appears luminous in the moonlight as he lies atop the dark duvet, and she touches the back of her fingers against his temple, grimacing at how cold and clammy he feels.

Moving quickly, she sets a fire, lighting various candles throughout the room. And soon her surroundings are glowing with a pleasant warmth and coziness.

A pipe lays innocently beside its owner on the bed, reflecting the light around it in its polished wood. She reaches for it carefully, as if its very touch would have her too sprawled out and dead to the world.

She’s surprised at its weight and craftsmanship. It’s not bamboo as she first thought, but ivory, meticulously carved and shaped, with a strange ceramic figure at the top. After inspecting it closer to the light, she sees it’s a dragon’s head, a tiny hole in its mouth. It’s a gorgeous piece of artistry. Beautiful and innocent in appearance, yet if the state of the inert man on the bed is anything, it’s truly a deviously wicked little device.

She sets it, and the tin stamped with exotic oriental symbols, on the nearby drawers, planning on locking them away when she leaves. Searching his wardrobe, she finds clothes, choosing a clean shirt.

With only the slightest apprehension, and much work, she manages to strip Robert of his shirt, damp with the sour smell of his sweat. He mumbles and stirs during her handling, but never fully wakes.

She’s heard of certain places, lurid stories of exotic, filthy dens in London’s docklands, that prey on weak men hoping to forget. She has no experience with such places or men, so she’s not altogether sure if Robert’s current oblivious state is even normal.

After pouring water into the ceramic basin, she soaks a cloth in it before squeezing out the excess and setting upon her task. There’s no eroticism in her actions, carefully washing away the sweat from Robert’s skin. But there is curiosity that she tries not to give into, and fails abysmally.

She’d seen the light tuft of hair on his chest, peeking out beneath his shirt and loose cravat, but she had no idea the expanse of it. It’s darker than the blonde hair on his head, but still light and glistening as she wipes it with her wet cloth. It covers across his wide chest, which usually seems so thin and lean under his shirt and fitted waistcoat, but the breadth of it surprises her.

His stomach and abdomen are bare though, muscles contracting easily under the skin with his every breath. The movement has her hypnotized for a time before she continues, cloth and hand moving lower.

She’s not shocked by the sight of him, having an idea of what lay under a man’s breeches. But the fact that this was Robert, that she’d fondled him, makes her mouth dry. Deciding not to go further, she looks away, quickly finishing his arms before grunting with effort to slip the clean shirt over him.

After covering him with his sheet, she sits in the leather chair nearby, set on watching over him until he wakes, when she can tell him just how foolish he is.

She hadn’t anticipated Mrs. Flynn, forgetting Martha’s explanation of Mr. Marriott’s order to check up on Robert.

Both their eyes lock in astonishment, neither speaking as Mrs. Flynn stands in the doorway holding a serving tray.

“Miss Smith?”

Anna swallows before standing, trying to think of some reason she might be here.

“I heard... he was ill. I only wanted to check on him.”

Mrs. Flynn gives a sad, understanding smile, though what she understands exactly Anna’s not sure.

After closing the door she sets the tray on the bed, sighing wearily as she does so. “Martha’s been talking again has she?”

“No,” Anna says quickly. “Well, yes. But it’s not her fault.”

The older woman only nods. “Mr. Marriott found him like this yesterday after he didn’t show for breakfast or lunch. Asked me to keep an eye on him till his wife comes for him.”

Time seems to suddenly stop, her stomach plummeting as it twists painfully within her. “His wife?”

“Mr. Marriott sent a letter off to her yesterday,” she explains, eyeing Anna with pity, “asking what it was she wished for him to do.” With a shrug she peers at Robert before picking up the tray and laying it on the nearby desk. “I expect she’ll send someone for him within a few days.”

Anna barely hears her, her world collapsing under this truth he kept from her. Married? She glares at him, a hate she didn’t know she possessed roiling inside her. “Hopefully they come soon,” she says through gritted teeth.

“Aye.” They stay like that, silent as Mrs. Flynn looks on Anna with sympathy and Anna eyeing Robert with scorn. “Miss Smith,” the housekeeper starts gingerly, but Anna doesn’t want to hear the pity of this old woman for a simple-minded girl who allowed herself to be misled by a man.

With a huff, she seizes the pipe and tin, skirts rustling as she escapes with haste before Mrs. Flynn can argue.

If he wished to hurt her and his wife by trying to turn her into his whore, then she would hurt him thrice.

Rushing from the manor, with no cloak or bonnet, she races with purpose through the garden and across the grounds, skirts catching as she makes her way through the heath. She tries not to think, instead only brood about the insurmountable betrayal, and anguish over how stupid she feels.

Finally, she smells the salt in the air, the damp breeze coming up from the sea nearby whipping her skirt and the loose tendrils of her hair. She walks carefully to the cliff edge, remembering the times she’s warned John of getting too close. She peers down at the sharp cliffs below, the drumming sound of the sea crashing against them, soothing.

She squeezes the pipe in her hand, the ivory, cool and smooth. She knows he can get another - knows he will - but she doesn’t care. If he wants to be a slave to his drug she wont stop him, but seeing the furious look in his eye when she tells him just what she’s done with his fancy instrument of pleasure has her feeling just a tad bit better - as childish as it is.

With a gleeful satisfaction, she hurls it over the cliffs into the North Sea, followed by the tin, hopefully gone forever.

Like him.


	12. Give Me Good Fight, Dear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW:ATTEMPTED RAPE/ASSAULT

The cold begins to seep through the layers of fabric that wrap around her, making her teeth chatter as she sits at the cliff edge. Not for the first time, Anna wishes she would have at least thought to bring her shawl. But the emotion that’d been running unchecked within her did not leave much room for practical thinking.

At least she hasn’t wept, she thinks. And she refuses to do so. Not for such a weak-willed man. She has much life to live, yet. And she’s going to enjoy it, however she can, in whatever way she wishes. In fact, as painful as this short journey has been, she’s glad for it. The self reflection and pleasures it’s taught her have her looking forward to the future.

Soon the darkness of night begins to give way to the dim blue of the day. A strange, liminal time that’s barely a few minutes. She remembers the stories one of the kind teachers of her childhood had told her, of the still time between night and dawn, when the world was silent and doors to all manner of places held open.

She’d been frightened then, of sprites who’d steal her away. Or demons who would defile her in ways she didn’t understand at such a tender age, yet was warned of relentlessly by pastors whom she now believes may have been the true demons all along.

Standing, she says a goodbye to the tumultuous sea before turning back home, suddenly more tired than she remembers ever being. If she’s lucky, she may still be afforded an hour or two of sleep before duty calls.

She sighs as she tromps through the heath, skirt and petticoats held tight as she tries to keep them from catching, as well keep herself from blowing over. A storm is coming, she senses, which means everyone will be stuck within the manor. Not something she’s looking forward to, but there are plenty of suitable places for she and the children to hide.

When she’s finally in the manor gardens her anxiety begins to rise, finding it harder to put one foot in front of the other the closer she gets to him.

Strong, she thinks, she must be strong. She’s more than any man she met mere days ago.

It’s then that she stops, held frozen by senses she can’t explain. She’s not alone. Turning, arms hugging her chest against the cold and nerves, she sees him, tall and slumped over beside a tree, looking disheveled and for all the world like he’s about to pass out at any time.

She only hesitates for a moment before making her way to him, frowning as she does so, making sure to leave space between them.

“Robert, what are you doing out here,” she asks with concern, but still she can hear the hurt and betrayal she can’t hide. “You shouldn’t be out of bed, you’re barely fit to-“

“Where is it,” he grounds out between bared teeth. With his shirt untucked and hair standing in all directions as it stirs in the increasingly violent wind, he looks like an animal.

She feels the beginnings of hesitance in his presence. This isn’t like before. Not like the study. As cruel and unhinged as he appeared, he still had all his faculties. This is far different. And far more dangerous. She takes a step back, trying to create some distance.

“I don’t know wh-“

“Mrs. Flynn told me she saw you take it,” he bursts out. “She _told_ me! Where have you hidden it?”

Another step.

The anger burns hot through her, flaming high at his words. How dare he presume to insist on such a trifle of a thing when he hides such truths from her.

Jaw set and back straight she replies coldly. “I wouldn’t know, sir. Perhaps you should ask your wife.”

She turns from him then, but not before seeing the shock cross his face, with satisfaction. But she doesn’t take more than three steps before he’s on her, grabbing her arm and whipping her around, savagely taking hold of her face in a painful grip, while tugging her towards him.

“So, that’s how it is then,” he growls in her face, fear replacing any kind of anger she had. “You’re going to stay here with your master?”

“Let me go,” she demands with what little grit and boldness she still possesses. “Let go!”

“Are you going to crawl for _him_? Lick his boots? Play his whore?”

Somehow in her struggling she escapes his hold, giving him a slap as hard as she can muster across his face, silencing his mad ravings.

“I am no man’s whore. Least of all yours.” She should leave it there, she knows, but she just can’t resist the chance to hurt him as he has her. “But if I were going to be, I’d choose him - or any man who treated me with respect.”

The blue of the coming dawn has darkened to a ominous grey/green, the world around her appearing void of color.

After a long stillness between them, she turns away once more, so many things aroused within her she can’t even name any of her feelings.

But yet again he’s on her, possessed by some madness of his drugs, demons, and pure hate. The ensuing struggle between them is brutal and savage as she tries to break free from his vicious grip, writhing and scratching and kicking. But, even in the deplorable state he’s in, he’s much too strong to fight against.

They fall into the rough grass within the copse of trees, just outside of view of the windows, and she knows no one will see them. No one will come to her rescue. She must find the strength to fight against him herself, or suffer the consequences of so many similar women.

“No,” she grunts as she continues to fight him, trying to keep him from catching her wrists. “Robert, stop!”

“You are not blonde,” he huffs into her face, “you are not tall, nor thin.” With some effort he manages to trap one hand above her head, and it’s not long before the other joins it. “But you don’t have to worry, Anna. You are just as gullible, wide-eyed, and undefiled as he likes.”

She has no idea what he’s raving about, unable to even understand him as she continues to kick and knee what spots of him she can without the use of her hands.

“Robert stop this,” she cries, no longer able to hold back the emotions exploding inside her. “Please, Robert! It’s me! Please, it’s me, don’t do this!”

With one hand holding both of her wrists, his other is free, and he uses it to push up her skirts, his body fighting its way between her legs.

“No Robert, don’t do this to me! Don’t, please!”

His head drops into the crook of her neck, kissing and licking her there, lovingly. “I’m so sorry, my sweet Anna.” And the contrast with the violence leaves her dizzy and even more fearful. “You don’t understand,” he grunts into her ear after she tries to throw him off her again.

“I can’t let him take you, too. I won’t let him. He takes everything, pet. He takes everything and then he dangles it there to torment me.”

She shakes her head, energy spent, crying as a light mist begins to surround them. “Please let me go, Robert. Please, please.”

“I can’t let you go, pet,” he whispers, trying to soothe her, but she only hates him more for it. “I can’t.”

She knows what comes next, feels him reach down between them as she tries to reconcile with her fate, until he grunts, body falling heavy atop her making her huff with the sudden weight of him on her chest, stealing the breath from her.

She tries to blink away the sprinkle of rain as she slides her wrists from beneath his limp hand, attempting to roll his dead weight off her. She does so with help from her savior. It’s a tall woman, grunting with effort beside her as she assists in peeling Robert away, before dumping him in the wet grass.

“Bloody hell, he’s in for it now,” the stranger says with some amazement as she stares down at the unconscious man.

Anna can barely register her with the rain coming down harder and the adrenaline and fear that’s built within her.

“Are you alright,” the woman asks with concern, trying to right Anna’s skirts.

She can only nod numbly, unable to speak.

“Well, then I think it best we go inside before the storm gets worse.” She helps Anna to her feet, making her notice the height of her.

“What about him,” Anna asks, shivering beneath her dress.

The woman raises a brow, lips pursed with disappointment as she eyes Robert. “I’d say it’s dangerous to leave him out in the cold rain, but in this instance I think he quite deserves it, don’t you agree?”

Anna nods, not able to think much beyond that.

“I’ll send someone for him after,” the woman assures. “Come.” She gestures with her head, hands holding onto Anna’s arms. “I’ve a horse nearby.”

They begin walking, heads down against the rain. “You mean a carriage,” Anna asks.

The woman only laughs, light yet husky, much like her voice. “No, I mean a horse. I hate carriages.”

The woman grabs the reins of her horse when they come near, holding a hand out for Anna. “I’m on my way to the manor just there, as I’m assuming are you.”

Anna frowns, allowing the stranger to help her into the saddle. It’s awkward, sitting astride the horse in such a way, not that she’s ever been atop a horse in _any_ way. But it becomes even more of a tight fit when the woman makes her own way up, sitting in front of Anna.

With no where to place her hands, she settles them on the woman’s mid-section, as lightly and inoffensively as she can. She feels a deep gratitude for this stranger, and realizes she doesn’t even know who she is.

“I am Anna Smith,” she introduces, holding on a bit tighter as the horse begins to move faster than a mere trot, her body going stiff from fear of falling over. “I am the governess at Heathside Manor.”

“Governess.” The woman shakes her head, grinning as much as Anna can tell. “I could never. I’m not fond of children. So needy and... sticky.”

“Sticky?”

“I have nephews,” she explains, “and it’s always a joy to see them, yet every time I do it’s a battle to try to keep away from their sticky hands. And somehow they always end up on my face, or hair.”

Anna smiles, this woman somehow making her feel more relaxed despite having just been assaulted and now riding a strange horse behind a strange person.

As they come within the courtyard, Anna begins to feel her sore heart a bit more, the numbness beginning to wear off. She’s sick to her stomach over what nearly happened to her, as well as what did. And the fact that it came from someone she thought may care for her, made it all the worse.

With the woman’s assistance, she slides from the horse, hands placed on her shoulders. They were strong, Anna noticed - steady. As were the hands that held her waist.

“Please ignore my rudeness,” the woman says, with all serious care, eyes appearing nervous, “I am Hester Hall.” Taking Anna’s hands, she squeezes them firmly. “I apologize profusely for my husband.”


	13. Beware the Patient Woman

“Thank you.” Hester drapes the quilt Martha handed her across Anna’s shoulders, sitting directly in front of her while rubbing her hands up and down Anna’s shivering arms. The kitchen fire roars in the large stone oven beside them, even still, Anna can’t seem to get warm.

“Darling, we really should get you out of these wet clothes,” Hester says, expression one of genuine worry. It makes the guilt within Anna eat away at her even faster.

“Oh my, dear! What happened to you child?” Mrs. Flynn rushes into the room, stopping just inside with a hand over her mouth. She looks as if she threw on her dress and pinned up her hair with haste.

“Just got caught in the storm is all, Mrs. Flynn,” Anna explains, electing to leave out everything pertaining to Robert. Her eyes catch Hester’s, and she sees the other woman understand.

The housekeeper comes closer, petting Anna’s head gently. “I’ll have Martha draw you a hot bath, and we’ll get you out of this dress before you catch your death, then.” She stops short, finally seeming to notice Hester with a quiet gasp of surprise. “Oh...”

Anna’s eyes go wide at the old woman’s look of pure joy, her wrinkled hand caressing Hester’s face adoringly. Hester’s smile is wide as she holds Mrs. Flynn’s hand to her.

“My dear! I wasn’t expecting you to come yourself. And so quick.”

Hester raises a brow, head tilting with a playful air. “Oh you know me, always running in to save the day.”

“It’s been too long,” Mrs. Flynn declares, and Anna thinks she sees tears in her eyes.

“It has,” Hester agrees with a bittersweetness that fills the room.

“You must see the children. Miss Smith has done wonders with them.” At that she turns to Anna, pride all over her excited face. “But of course _after_ we get you both warmed up- Oh my!” She stands suddenly straight, mouth agape. “I’ve forgotten about Mr. Hall.”

Hester stands beside her, taking her hands. “It’s alright, Mrs. Flynn.”

“No, no you don’t understand, dear. He woke and made a mad dash out into the storm! Quite incensed and-“

“It’s alright,” Hester assures, “I’ve sent your man after him. They should be back shortly.”

“I suppose he’ll be needing a warm bath, too then.”

Hester shrugs with a roll of her eyes. “Bandages more like.”

“Bandages?”

Hester raises her brows, mouth open as she tries to come up with something. “The idiot has gone and knocked himself out.”

“Oh dear. Is it serious? Shall we call for the doctor?”

“Oh no,” Hester reassures with a smile. “I’d rather him feel the pain of his utter stupidity.”

Mrs. Flynn nods, returning her smile politely until she understands what Hester has said, face falling in shock.

“Bandages will do just fine, Mrs. Flynn.”

—————

Anna pauses in her brushing, wet hair hanging limp as she stairs at her reflection. Leaning forward, she runs her fingertips across the bruises left on her cheeks, a near perfect print of fingers and thumb on either side of her face.

She blinks back tears, trying to push away the images from the morning - the memory of utter helplessness and terror crippling her ability to forget.

Her stomach churns dangerously, making her dash for the washbasin. It’s as if she’s caving in on herself, mind stuck in a rut she can’t escape from. With a frustrated cry she slams her palms on the table, feeling a desperate urge to tear the room apart.

Before she can, there’s a knock on her door, light and hesitant. Wrapping her robe tighter around herself, she waits for Mrs. Flynn to enter. So she’s taken aback when it’s Hester who peeks around the door.

“Knock, knock,” she says with grin, stepping just inside the room, as if waiting for permission to invade Anna’s space. “I’ve just come to check on you.”

Anna releases a heavy breath, trying to control the complexities of emotion welling up within her. She tries to focus on something - anything to keep herself together, settling on the junoesque form of Hester.

She was beautiful in an elegant and dignified way, tall and lithe, with dark red hair coiled in a loose bun with a braid. She wore very little makeup, and no jewelry to speak of, but the most astonishing thing were her clothes.

A long, well-fitted man’s banyan layered over a waistcoat, and a shirt tucked into a rather drab looking skirt falling straight and close to her legs without the padding of layers upon layers of petticoats. All of it topped off with a neckcloth that matched the color of her hair.

She looks as if she raided her husband’s wardrobe. Except none of these things would ever fit Robert, as well-tailored as they were to fit the womanly curves of their owner.

She’s captivating, and Anna wonders if she can recreate the image with paints.

Chin high but eyes low, Anna speaks. “I don’t know,” she begins in a tremulous voice, “I don’t know if I’m ok.”

Head tilting with sympathy, Hester makes her way swiftly across the room. She holds Anna’s arms, thumbs stroking against them, kind yet firm. It’s quickly becoming Anna’s favorite form of comfort.

But the woman’s presence creates such confusion, Anna can barely comprehend it. She’s entirely too gracious and understanding considering how they first met, any other woman would’ve stood by her husband despite Anna’s obvious reluctance. But for all appearances, she seems more concerned with Anna’s mental well-being than her husband’s physical one.

Would she be so caring and understanding if she knew the extent of Anna and Robert’s relationship?

Hester raises the back of her fingers against Anna’s cheek, caressing the bruises there with a gentleness that has Anna’s throat feeling tight, closing her eyes against the sting of tears.

“You’ve suffered a trauma. There’s no need to know anything. And there’s certainly no rush to be ok.”

Vision blurry, Anna peers up at her, head stuffed with contradictions and fears. “Why are you so kind to me?”

Hester gives a worried frown. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

She can’t answer, too afraid of watching this lovely woman look on her with scorn. She swallows hard, willing herself to speak. But she sees it when it becomes too late, comprehension alighting across Hester’s face. And Anna waits with bated breath for the spewing of vitriol to come.

But it never does.

Instead, a queer kind of smile lifts at the corners of Hester’s lips, a look of good humor and sympathy on her face.

“No worries, love,” she says kindly. “You’re welcome to whatever you wish. Though, I would suggest not at the current moment, with things how they are.”

Anna leans away, not completely sure Hester understands. But her knowing look tells Anna that, yes, she does, and she still couldn’t care less.

It’s unsettling, yet also... fascinating.


	14. Kaleidoscopic

Anna comes down the stairs nervously, one slow step at a time, her hand choking the banister. But she breathes a little easier when she sees there’s nothing to show Robert’s been down here - or anyone for that matter. The house is eerily still and silent.

The further down she goes she begins to hear voices, Mr. Marriott’s to be exact, deep and... hesitant. She desperately needs to know what’s happening within this house, not to mention what’s known among the staff and her employer.

Creeping as quietly as her shoes on the hard wood will allow her, she stands beside Marriott’s study doors, listening to the voices within.

“-expect you to come yourself.”

“You said my husband was ill, of course I came.” Anna recognizes Hester’s smoky voice, and she leans in a bit closer.

“I sent that letter yesterday. How the devil did it reach you so quickly, not to mention the time it’d take you to come here?”

It’s silent for a moment, neither Marriott nor Hester speaking, and even though there’s a solid door between Anna and the study, she can almost feel the uncomfortable atmosphere within the room.

“I’m a fast rider,” Hester says in explanation, with a mocking tone.

“Indeed.” She hears the rustle of fabric followed by a few muffled steps. “I remember how much you enjoy... _riding_. But it’s almost as if you were nearby - waiting.”

Another stretch of taut silence. “Now why would I do that?”

“Hester, I don’t know what you and Hall are doing, or planning, but I’m finished. I’ve tried to help your husband. I have held out an olive branch to you both-“

“Oh, how kind,” she interrupts, mocking him once again.

More footsteps, this time coming harder than before. “No more, do you hear me. I’m done trying to be a friend.”

Hester sighs, long and dramatic. “That is a pity. As I considered you to be among my finest of friends. I suppose I will have get on without you.”

“Yes, you will,” Marriott snaps back. “You can continue to drive your reputation into the ground, and Robert can continue to drown in his self-pity. But I’m finished with both of you. As soon as he is able, I want you both gone.”

Anna breathes softly, her curiosity clambering to understand.

“May I at least see the children before I go?”

Marriott drops heavily into his chair, sighing tiredly. “Do you think that’s wise? You won’t be seeing them again. What would be the point, Hester?”

“It’s the closest I can come to seeing Eliza,” she responds, a sad ache coming from her words.

“Yes, fine,” he gives in. “But not alone. Their governess will be with them, understood?”

“Of course.”

“You’ve met her, their governess?”

Anna holds her breath.

“I have,” Hester answers simply.

Anna expects more, the conversation seeming to have stalled, but it remains quiet until Hester stands, saying her goodbyes in her sardonic way she seems to always address Marriott.

Anna hurries away, only making it two steps up before the doors open.

“Oh, Miss Smith,” Hester calls with an unexpected excitement at having found her. “Exactly who I wish to speak with.”

Anna turns, taking a step down, eyeing the other woman warily. Like Mr. Marriott and Robert, she too seems to be part of this mysterious web. And Anna’s not sure if she’s to be trusted any more than either man. “How fortuitous then that you should catch me.”

The corner of Hester’s mouth turns up, reminding Anna of Robert. But instead of an intoxicatingly dangerous air, Hester seems... fun.

After a handful of steps to the stairs, Hester stands just before her. And with her step up, Anna is afforded a bit of height so that they stand eye to eye.

“Indeed.” The other woman’s blue eyes are daring, and the tilt of her head, playful. Standing this close with the bright sunshine gleaming through the windows, Anna notices gold strands hidden within her fiery hair.

“What did you need me for,” she asks, trying not to sound as affected as she’s become by this woman’s stirring presence.

“Are you feeling any better?”

The question takes Anna off guard, not expecting it. “I am,” she answers honestly.

“Good. I would hate to see a beautiful girl such as yourself, be made low by my blackguard of a husband.” She leans in, teasingly conspiratorial. “He’s not worth it.”

Anna’s not sure how to respond to that, opting to say nothing at all.

“The children,” Hester suddenly says with a smile. “I require you to introduce me to them.”

Anna frowns. “You don’t know them?”

“Why would I?”

“I don’t know, I just- Well after I saw you with Mrs. Flynn, I assumed you were no stranger here.”

Hester nods. “Yes well, that was before their time.”

She gestures up up the stairs, beyond Anna. “I follow you, Miss Smith.”

Once they reach the landing, Hester comes up beside her, arm wrapping around Anna’s as if they were old friends.

“So tell me, what are they like,” Hester asks.

Anna is in a constant state of off balance around this woman. “Um, they are... strong-willed, I suppose. The only way to truly get them to listen is to appeal to their better nature.”

Hester snorts at that. “Do they have one?”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

“Well, with their sire such as he is-“

Anna stops, Hester turning to look at her. “Mr. Marriott is a rather congenial man.” She’s not sure why she feels the need to defend her employer, but remembering the respect that he’s treated her with all these years probably has much to do with it.

Hester raises her brows, eyeing Anna with a frustrating look that makes her think she missing something.

“Yes, he appears so, doesn’t he?”

Shaking her head Anna continues on, Hester on her heels, no doubt watching her with that infernal smirk. “I’ve been with him for a few years now, he’s been a good master.”

“Hmm, I’m assuming that means you’ve been a good little servant.”

Once outside the school room, Anna turns to face her. “I won’t have you talking ill of their father in front of them. Whatever it is between you, your husband, and Mr. Marriott has nothing to do with the children.”

A gravity seems to come over her, her normally glib manner becoming serious. “You don’t know me at all, Miss Smith. I’d never do such a thing.”

—————

The introductions are simple enough, both John and Mary greeting Hester kindly, if shyly. But when it comes time for Anna to introduce Hester, she’s at a loss for more than just, ‘Mrs. Hall’.

Hunkering down in front of them, Hester smiles warm and bright at the interested children before her. “It is very nice to finally meet the both of you.”

“Finally,” questions John.

Hester nods. “Yes,” she giggles, “I am your aunt.”


	15. Say it Like You Mean it

The delicate click of porcelain is the only sound to break the silence as Anna takes her tea in the informal dining room with Mrs. Flynn. The tick of the clock soon joins it. Anna wonders if Mrs. Flynn is even aware, or if it’s only her as she tries to summon up the courage to begin asking questions.

“I’m so relieved you’re feeling better,” the housekeeper sighs. “I was quite worried about you. Not just of you catching ill, but... I know your feelings were hurt, dear.”

Well, with that Anna supposes there’s no harm in pushing forward. Except for maybe her pride.

“How is he? Mr. Hall,” she questions after clearing her throat of any lingering emotions. She’d like to say she’s only asking to be polite, or just to know when he’ll be well enough to leave, but the truth is, she cares for him still. Not that she ever wishes to see him again. Mr. Marriott had been right, Robert is an unhealthy man, and she won’t drown herself trying to save him.

Be that as it may, she’s still determined to find out what is happening between these three players of Robert, Marriott, and Hester in this mysterious drama that’s unfolding. There’s a story here, one that not only may affect the children, but her employment as well, and she aims to find out what it is.

Mrs. Flynn gives a hearty laugh. “Oh, he took a right wallop, he did, falling over out in that storm.” She places a hand demurely over her mouth, trying to control her amusement. “I shouldn’t laugh, I know, but I think it’s his pride that’s hurt more than his head.”

Anna’s relieved he’s not as ill as she’d feared, and hopefully now it means he will leave sooner rather than later.

“And I dare say, Hest- I mean, Mrs. Hall was more angry than worried.” She begins chuckling once more. “Even smacking the man on his newly bruised head after asking if it hurt, replying with a saucy ‘Good’ when he groaned.” She tries to once again control her fit of giggles.

“Ah me, I’ve missed her.”

Anna swallows thickly, not ready to unpack her own feelings about the strange Mrs. Hall. But she did still wish for answers, and Mrs. Flynn seems to be in a joyful, talkative mood.

“Yes, you seem fond of her,” Anna says with a sip of her tea.

The housekeeper tries to rein in her enthusiasm. “Yes well, she’s good company, isn’t she. Always finds a way to get me to laughing, that silly girl.”

“You’ve known her long?”

“Oh, since she was about fourteen, fifteen.” Mrs. Flynn gives a happy smile, and Anna can see the deep affection there. “And let me tell you, she was a fire cracker as a girl as well, perhaps even more so. Always singing and humming cheerily, bringing light wherever she’d go as well as scorn.”

She leans in close then, whispering, “She once sang in a tavern... full of men.” Sitting back, seat creaking beneath her, the older woman reaches for her tea. “Mr. Marriott was quite unhappy when he found out about that, believe me.”

Anna tilts her head, trying to file away all this knew information. “Mr. Marriott, what is she to him?”

Mrs. Flynn raises her brows, astonished perhaps that Anna did not know. “Why, she’s his sister-in-law.”

Anna assumed as much after what Hester told John in the school room. “I see.”

“And of course, he was once her guardian.”

Anna frowns, teacup frozen in its journey to her lips. “Guardian?”

“Well, the poor mite was still young when her parents died, and they’ve not much family to speak of, so she became the ward of her sister’s husband.”

“That’s how you came to know her then?”

Mrs. Flynn nods cheerfully as she takes a sip.

The clock ticks for another few moments, filling the comfortable silence between them. “It’s strange then, that the children don’t know her.”

The housekeeper’s face falls, eyes becoming shifty as she fingers her teacup. “They had a bit of a falling out.”

“Was it to do with Mr. Hall,” she asks, trying to appear nonchalant.

“Oh no, no,” Mrs. Flynn says, waving the suggestion away. “Mr. and Mrs. Hall have some things in common, is all.”

Anna waits for her to elaborate. When she doesn’t, she decides to try and push a little further. “Their hate for Mr. Marriott.”

The housekeeper looks up sharply, and Anna knows she won’t be getting much more from her. “Indeed,” is all she supplies.

“Have they been married long?” While she’s curious to unravel this mystery, she also wants to learn more about Robert and Hester’s odd union.

“Well, let’s see, Hester was a young thing when they married, eighteen perhaps. So I’d wager it’s been nearly seven years.”

It’s then that Hester herself waltzes in, looking around as if searching for someone.

Mrs. Flynn lights up immediately. “Oh, speak of the devil.”

The tapping of Hester’s shoes are loud in the small room as she comes closer, her ever present crooked grin on her face. “Talking about me, are you? Ladies, you know that’s quite rude.”

Her expression doesn’t show any offense though. In fact, she seems to become even more pleased at being the topic of others’ discussion. She is truly an odd woman, and Anna can’t help but be enamored by her.

“As much as I’d thoroughly enjoy hearing the latest gossip about myself, I’m afraid I have another engagement.” She eyes Anna a bit mischievously, making her squirm.

“I’m afraid I must ask something of you again, Miss Smith.”

Anna blinks with surprise, a worrisome excitement surging through her. She manages not to let it show as she carefully sets her cup on the table, porcelain clacking softly.

“Of course, how can I help?”

Hester’s smile grows, and Anna can’t help but return it as infectious as it is. “The ladies that are visiting Heathside Manor, have thought it well to invite me to join them in the parlor room this evening.”

Anna stares at her blankly, not understanding. “Oh.”

With a rush Hester hunkers beside Anna’s chair, grasping her arm with an imploring squeeze. “Please Anna, don’t make me visit with those miserable women alone.”

All words leave her as she gapes at Hester, lips parted and unable to form a response. She turns to Mrs. Flynn, but the old woman is lost in her teacup, avoiding eye contact.

“You wish me to join you?”

Hester peers up at her, expression one of pleading kindness. “I do. Very much so. You’re the only woman here whose company I can stand for more than a few minutes-“ She turns to Mrs. Flynn swiftly. “Housekeepers not withstanding, of course.”

She’s not sure what to say. Would she even want to be stuck in a room full of snobbish ladies? Last time she was ordered to do so it didn’t go as she’d hoped. Then again, this time around there would be no Robert.

She meets Hester’s eyes, and realizes that if it means learning more about this peculiar woman, then yes, she’d like that very much.

She nods, smiling politely.

While having been around her for a few days now, Anna is becoming used to Hester’s strange, dramatic ways, so she’s expecting as much when she agrees to go. But she’s left completely speechless when, with her excited cry, she lurches forward, pressing a hard kiss to Anna’s cheek.

“Thank you so much, love. You’ve know idea how much I appreciate it.” With that she’s gone just as quickly as she appeared.

Anna turns to Mrs. Flynn, numb with shock. “She’s very excitable.”

The housekeeper only grins as she strokes her cheek, signaling Anna to do the same. Rubbing her fingers in the mirroring spot on her own face, they come away red with Hester’s lipstick.

—————

Hester finds her reading in the school room, pulling her from her seat after a quick hello. She escorts her down the hall towards the parlor, arm wrapped comfortably around Anna’s.

“Are you certain they’ll be alright with my intruding?” She tries to keep focused and away from the electrifying feel of Hester’s fingers as they playful tangle with Anna’s.

Hester huffs out a laugh. “These are ladies, and they’re bored. Believe me, your inclusion into their lives will be the highlight of their day.”

The other woman’s fingers begin twirling Anna’s ring before peering down at it. “This is beautiful.”

An old ache burns within her, a scar never quite fully healed. “It was my mother’s.”

“She died,” Anna explains, “my father, too. Both when I was very young. This is the only thing of either of them I have.”

Holding her back so they linger alone in the quiet hall, Hester looks on her with empathy. “Then you and I are both orphans, it seems.”

Shifting nervously, Anna nods. “I’d heard that you were orphaned, and became the ward of Mr. Marriott.”

“Ha. That was a fun time.”

She frowns, not sure she believes her after knowing the obvious dislike she has for the man.

Hester must notice her confusion. “I fancied myself an actress. Was determined to light up Covent Garden with my Shakespearean renditions and my flair for the dramatic.”

She sighs, head shaking in a jesting way. “But Marriott wouldn’t have it.”

“No, I assume not.” As dramatic and strange as Hester may be, actresses weren’t thought of very highly. And in fact, quite a few were obviously courtesans. It was not something a lady would ever pursue.

“So I ran away,” Hester says matter of factly.

“Ran away?”

Hester begins resuming their walk, dragging a dumbfounded Anna beside her.

“Mmhmm. Quite a few times.”

—————

The ladies in the parlor were indeed surprised by her presence. But Anna got the impression they were more surprised by Hester’s, expecting her to refuse their offer of joining them. By the look on Hester’s face, she was quite content to be in a room of women who did not truly want her company.

“It’s a good thing you’re here,” says a, rather young, lady in front of her. She has an adorable youthful glee and eagerness about the evening ahead. Anna has the urge to appease the young girl in any way, just to try and calm her. But there’s no need as her mother, Anna assumes, snaps harshly at the girl to sit.

Introductions are made, all the ladies greeting her politely, if coldly.

“We were just deciding how we should spend the evening,” one of the women explains. “We were thinking Forfeits.”

Anna peers around the room anxiously, smiling politely. “What’s forfeits?”

The young girl, whose name Anna has learned is Abigail, spasms excitedly in her seat on the velvet cushions. “Oh, it’s quite enjoyable, Miss Smith. And it’s always fun with more people. Which is why it’s so good you’ve joined us this evening.”

“How does one play it?”

“It’s simple, really,” she begins to explain. “We play a handful of games, and the loser of each must forfeit something of theirs. Then at the end, someone must blindly choose one of the forfeited items, along with some ridiculous form of punishment for the person whose item was chosen.”

Abigail’s brown eyes are wide, her smile even wider.

“That sounds...-” terrifying- “fun,” Anna acquiesces.

Turns out there was no real reason to worry. The games were rather easy, some even enjoyable, catching herself laughing genuinely on more than one occasion. She loses only once, therefore only having to forfeit one item - which is good considering she only has one - her mother’s ring.

“Alright,” begins one of the more pompous women Anna can’t be bothered to remember the name of, “is there anyone willing to ‘cry the forfeits’?”

Abigail’s hand immediately shoots up, flapping eagerly in the air before her mother hisses at her under her breath. She quickly drops her hand, head down and shoulders sagging. Anna wishes she could comfort her, and perhaps for the first time in her life, she thinks how lucky she is that she wasn’t raised to be some sort of prim lady.

“I’ll do it,” Hester volunteers beside her.

She’s sat in a single chair, silk handkerchief tied around her eyes. Abigail carefully hands her the bowl of forfeited items, and Anna watches with amusement as Hester blindly reaches in.

She knows she safe, having only lost one item, unlike most of the others who’ve lost quite a few. So it’s rather suspect when it’s her mother’s ring Hester holds up for the all to see. The room’s attention turns to her, all smiles and muffled laughter. Her heart squeezes painfully in her chest as she tries to calm herself.

It’s only a game.

“Here is a thing, and a very pretty thing,” Hester recites, still blindfolded, “what shall be done by the owner of this thing?” She pauses, leaving everyone on the edge of their seat - especially Abigail.

“I declare that the owner of this thing, must kneel before me and say a half-a-dozen, truthful, flattering things to me.”

Everyone releases a breath, most of them grumbling with disappointment. “Hester, you just want to hear someone compliment you.”

Sliding the handkerchief over her head, she looks down at the ring in her hand before glancing up at Anna. From the impish gleam in her eye, Anna understands that her ring was not at all chosen by accident.

Heart pounding, she tries to ignore the eyes on her as she ambles unhurriedly up to Hester. But the snickering and whispering is making it rather difficult. Slowly she kneels, head down with embarrassment.

She takes a steadying breath before looking up, trying to will away the blush she knows Hester will notice. But when she sees Hester’s face, solemn and restrained - so unlike her - everyone else disappears.

Her blue eyes search Anna’s for something she can’t quite name, but the earnest desire Anna finds there has her lips parting and center becoming wet with need.

Licking her dry lips, she begins, voice shaking with fear and excitement. “Your are... kind, and... accepting, unapologetic, and spirited. Your craving for life leaves me speechless and wanting for myself, and your elegance and dignity give you a beauty no other could ever compare with.

The silence is deafening, Hester’s breath coming fast as she watches Anna with amazement. And suddenly Anna is reminded of another time when she knelt in front of someone else, asking her to give and receive, and she has a sudden urge for Robert to be here with them.

“I think that was more than six,” Abigail whispers, breaking the hush that’s settled over the room.

Anna and Hester swiftly turn their attention back to the rest of the ladies, all of them glaring with either disgust or confusion.

Abigail’s mother stands, back straight as an arrow as she looks down at Anna and Hester, both literally and figuratively. “I think it’s time we retire ladies,” she says, obviously speaking only to the rest of the room.

They’re surrounded by the sounds of creaking chairs and rustling gowns until they’re left alone in the quiet parlor.

“I’m sorry,” Anna breathes, unable to work up the courage to even look at the other woman. But then the sight of her mother’s ring as Hester holds it out to her, has anger seeping through. Anger at these rude, judgmental women.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

She reaches to take the ring, and Hester’s fingers wrap around her lightly, forcing Anna to look up. The urge to rise and kiss her is fierce, but she manages to hold it back.

Instead she says, “You knew, didn’t you? Blindfolded or not, you chose my ring. Why?”

Hester offers an almost sad kind of smile, and Anna wants to kiss it away - to bring back her joyful, teasing one she’s gotten so used to.

“Perhaps I just wanted to know what you think of me.”

Anna swallows hard. “It was all true. What I said.”

“I know,” Hester says with a nod, her smile slowly transforming into a happier one.

“I think,” she starts nervously, hands clutching the fabric of her dress in her lap, “I think I’m utterly besotted with you.”

And her heart soars at the sight of Hester’s smile, stretched wide with teeth and crinkles at the corner of her eyes. “And I you,” she chuckles.

And Anna can no longer contain it, rising up on her knees and leaning over Hester’s to press her lips against hers. It starts out chaste and simple until she feels Hester’s tongue, asking for entrance that Anna immediately gives, mouth opening, allowing Hester to sweep inside.

She’s awestruck and shaken, never having been kissed in such a way that makes her world shift and legs tremble. Hester breaks the kiss, the wet smack of their lips as they part making Anna ache to feel Hester’s touch.

“Not here,” she breathes, hot and heavy into Anna’s face. “Take me to your room,” she pleads, sounding so lovely and needy, Anna is more than willing to comply.


	16. Lips Burrow Deep

The door closes behind them with a sonorous clack, heightening the rush of anticipation. Caught up in their intoxicating kisses that leave Anna feeling drunk, they stumble against one another, laughing into each other’s mouths as they unhook, unbutton, and untie the layers of stifling clothing that keeps them apart.

They fall into bed, she in her chemise and Hester in her shirt, their giggles quickly turning into soft, pleasured moans and hums between them.

“Oh, darling,” Hester sighs between lustful kisses, “your lips are far sweeter than I dreamed.”

Anna’s jaw drops when Hester’s mouth leaves a wet trail over her cheek and down their throat, nipping and licking as she went. “You dreamed of me?”

Peering up, Hester hovers over her, strands of long, red curls hanging loose like a curtain around them. “I have dreamt of you always, even before I knew you.” With that, she smiles, so tender and affectionate, before lowering for a simple peck that makes Anna’s heart melt.

Things take an unhurried, leisurely turn after that. Hester grins as her nimble fingers undo the tie at the base of Anna’s throat, warm hand slipping beneath the fabric to palm at her breast. It’s a torturous yet tender touch that has her nerve endings firing.

“Is this very wicked,” Anna asks a bit hesitant, all while her hand covers Hester’s, pleading without words, for more.

Hester raises a perfectly shaped brow, feigning a coy shamefulness. “So very wicked, Miss Smith. I should think even more than murder.”

It makes Anna laugh, Hester’s levity giving her courage. Gently, she rolls them so she lies half over her, greatly enjoying the feel of her solid body under her own.

“I want to taste you,” Anna announces in a whispered, trembling voice. “I want to make you feel good.” Hester’s eyes become fire, burning Anna with her gaze. “Will you show me how?”

“I’d like nothing better.”

She sits up, pulling the long shirt from her body, mussing her frazzled hair even more. She’s stunning, reminding Anna of the tale about the fierce warrior woman, Boudicca. Now she shall never be able to read that story without picturing Hester’s wild curls and girlish smile.

Her eyes trail across Hester’s body as she makes herself more comfortable. The milky, smooth expanse of her back, the nobs of her spine sliding under her skin as she moves. The curved width of her hips giving way to luscious thighs Anna wishes to nip, leaving marks to show where she’s been.

Hester holds out a hand, beckoning Anna closer with a beautiful smile, and she crawls to her, dipping to kiss her rosy mouth, tenderly sucking the bottom lip between her own. Hester’s face is warm against Anna’s, hot like a furnace and only becoming hotter.

Hester captures Anna’s hand, sliding it across her jaw and down the column of her throat, Anna’s fingertips tingling with every inch of naked skin she touches, till finally it rests in the valley between Hester’s breasts. With wonder, she palms the pliant flesh, massaging and kneading it gently. A spark flashes between her legs every time her thumb swipes across the pebbled nipple, aching to feel it between her lips.

She lowers her head, eyes on Hester’s as she swirls her tongue around it, loving the feel of it stiffening the more she plays with it.

Her head feels lighter as Hester releases her hair from its chignon, running her slight fingers through the silken, chocolate strands, scratching her nails across Anna’s scalp while she continues exploring Hester’s body.

Anna’s mouth skirts here and there, leaving sloppy kisses and red scrapes from her teeth, her heart thrumming harder between her legs with every sound Hester makes. She finds her navel, nipping at the soft skin just beneath it.

Hester giggles. “You do like to bite, don’t you?”

“I told you I wanted to taste you,” Anna says, words coming out breathless. “I meant it.”

Hester’s eyes turn dark - wanting - and she pushes leisurely off the headboard, finger beneath Anna’s chin to pull her closer. “Then show me.”

Anna swallows around the arousal that’s clogged her throat, watching Hester lie back once again before slouching down the bed a bit, knees parting invitingly. Anna wants nothing more than to delve into the thatch of dark hair, neat and trimmed, yet surely hiding treasures worth more than gold.

But memories of her time with Robert come unbidden into her mind. She remembers the feel of him as he slowly made his way to her desperate center, torturous and mean, making her whine with frustration for relief - for his touch.

She wants to do the same with Hester, taking her time and inching her way down and across trembling thighs. The musky scent of her is heady and overwhelming, invading Anna’s every pore, pulling her in deeper and making her grow bolder.

With a gentle stroke, Anna runs her fingers over Hester’s center, curious and tentative, Hester’s hips rising and rotating languidly, as if beckoning Anna closer. She has no choice but to heed it.

She uses her thumbs to spread apart Hester’s folds, marveling at the true beauty of a woman. The fact that it’s this woman though, makes her blood run hot through her veins. Nose nestled against her, Anna blows lightly, cool air making Hester’s hips jerk as Anna watches in fascination as her muscles contract, her wetness glistening in the light. It makes her mouth water.

“Oh, your a tease,” Hester groans with mock disappointment, eyes closed as she pets Anna’s head. “I’ll pay you back later, love.”

“What do you call it,” Anna asks with a naivety she hopes Hester doesn’t hear, before experimentally sucking on a fleshy outer lip.

Hester lets out a long gust of breath, heel settling against Anna’s back. “Cunt, love. It’s called a cunt.”

Unable to hold back any longer, Anna flattens her tongue, lapping up in a hard, heavy stroke against Hester’s weeping slit. Her hips tilt towards Anna’s, and she can’t stop herself from reveling in another taste of this warm blend of copper and salt, letting it coat her mouth.

“I like the taste of your cunt,” she mumbles into Hester’s flesh, not even sure if the other woman hears her. But Hester’s broken sighs and soft mewling has Anna’s own cunt sopping and crying out for attention.

She continues licking with her eyes closed, just enjoying the taste and smell and presence of Hester sinking into her very core. Until she feels fingers beside her nose, circling furiously. Looking up, Hester’s head is laid back, breathing harsh as her chest and neck beginning turning a beautiful shade of pink.

“What are doing?”

Hester grunts, legs quivering. “It feels good,” she explains, words stuttering out between whimpers. Her other hand glides tenderly behind Anna’s head, pulling her closer. That’s all Anna needs to understand, listing forward to take this magical little nub in her mouth.

Anna’s eyes flick up in amazement as Hester disintegrates beneath her, her responses changing from vocal to physical. Her fingers fist in Anna’s hair with one hand, and claw at the sheets with the other. Her throat is bared as her body undulates in a primal dance, breasts shuddering. It’s mesmerizing, and it spurs Anna on, sucking harder while she caresses the opening of Hester’s slick cunt.

Anna loves the way her smoky voice deepens to a near baritone when she suddenly grunts, a sheen of sweat glistening across her body as she tugs Anna closer, till all Anna can do is suck open-mouthed as Hester grinds and ruts against her face with abandon.

And then she breaks, strangely silent, but no less provocative, mouth open wide and body tight as she clings to Anna.

When finally Hester loosens her hold, Anna rests her forehead on her stomach, trying to catch her breath as Hester does the same. It’s beautifully intimate, Hester’s thighs warm around Anna as she combs mindlessly through Anna’s hair.

Anna peeks up, only to see Hester looking down, a face of serene calm and relief. “Come up here with me,” she purrs, lips quirking up at Anna in that lopsided grin that all Hester’s.

The bed dips as she crawls up, allowing Hester to press her head on her sweaty chest, fingers smoothing contentedly down Anna’s hair once she does. She hears the beat of Hester’s heart under her ear, each thump mirroring her own, and while she counts them she doesn’t notice as her world begins to drift away until she’s fast asleep.


	17. Shuffling the Cards (of your game)

“Hester says the two of you are getting along rather nicely.”

Anna jumps with a squeak, papers she’d been holding fluttering down around her. Spinning back, she eyes Robert fearfully. Surely he wouldn’t attack her here in the manor, in a hallway anyone could walk through at any moment.

As if the universe had heard her thoughts, a servant comes round the corner rushing between them, swift enough to stir the air before hurrying down the stairs. Anna sets her attention back on Robert, noticing the seriousness - and sanity - in his gaze, allowing her to breathe a bit easier.

Still, she’d rather he not be here at all.

Ignoring him and his pleading eyes, she kneels to retrieve the children’s schoolwork, focusing on setting them to rights so she doesn’t have to engage with him. Part of her hopes he’ll walk away, and leave her be.

But another part of her, a weak, yet still more demanding part, wants him to try - to persuade and beg for her forgiveness. She stills at the sound of his boots, seeing them out of the corner of her eye as they calmly make their way towards her. Defeated, she sits back on her legs with eyes closed as he draws down beside her, helping to collect her papers.

“I’m not here to hurt you, pet.”

“Don’t call me that,” she snaps, glaring at him with a fierceness fueled by pain.

And he wears such a pitiful expression, she wants nothing more than to touch his cheek. But that would be much too lenient for such a man who finds it necessary to attack women when he does not get his way.

“Anna,” he sighs with a regretful - mournful tone, “I only wish to apologize. My actions-“

“Were appalling.”

She can see the grief that surrounds him, his remorse thick and heavy in his quiet, languid movements. As if he hasn’t the energy for anything else. So it is, the punishment for men with a conscience.

He has that at least.

“Yes, they were. I might have many reasons, but no excuses. There _is_ no excuse.” He swallows hard, leaning towards her, and though he doesn’t reach for her, his knuckles brush against the back of her hand, a tender caress if there ever was one. Her eyes slide closed against it, but she doesn’t pull away.

“If you see fit to hate me forever, I’d understand. But I must beg you for forgiveness.” He goes silent, possibly trying to collect his thoughts.

“Anna,” he presses in a harsh whisper, “I am many awful things, and I hate every one of them, but I know I want you in my life. You’re-“

“You want me,” Anna repeats with disgust. “You’re married! To a rather lovely woman at that!”

Robert rolls his eyes, lips quirking up like she’d told a ridiculous joke. “As you say, Hester is married, yet that didn’t stop you from asking her to teach you how to tip the velvet, did it?”

She frowns, not understanding until she catches his devilish look that tells her he knows all about how close she and Hester have become. She flushes with shame, feeling the heat of it pool in her cheeks.

Robert chuckles, his smile wide and kind, trying to put her at ease. “It’s alright, Anna. As I’m sure you’ve noticed by now, my and Hester’s union is... unique.” He shakes his head, a fondness warming his features. “She’s a remarkable woman.”

It gives her pause, and she can see in his patient gaze, an asking for something she doesn’t understand. Or perhaps an offering? Whatever it is, she doesn’t have the strength to involve herself in his games anymore. She reaches out to snatch the papers he holds, freezing when his fingers wrap gently around her wrist.

This is a different kind of Robert than she’s ever known. Considerate and sweetly affectionate. And she can see how easily it’d be to fall for him, if only he acted this way from the start.

“Please, Anna,” he says with a painful yearning. “Like you said, I know I’ve given you no reason to trust me, much less forgive, but if you could find it in your heart to try - to give me another chance... I would be good to you.”

She’s at a loss at how to respond. Even if she could, or would, forgive him, how would this work? She and Robert - Hester and Robert - She and Hester. Not to mention, the employer with whom she lives has seen fit to force their leave. She’ll most likely never see them again.

It was a painful mess just waiting to tear out her heart.

She offers up one last look, face clear and giving him no answers. She’d like to say it’s simply to make him worry, but to be honest, she’s no idea how to feel about any of this.

Papers in hand, she stands, feeling proud of herself for leaving him there crouched on the floor, watching her walk away.

Even if she does want nothing more than to turn back and have him take her in his arms.

—————

The study is deathly quiet, her chair becoming uncomfortable the longer she sits in it. Mr. Marriott has been diligently studying John’s schoolwork for nigh on twenty minutes now. And while John is certainly a bright boy, he_ is _only ten, and there’s not that much to be gleaned from a ten year old boy’s schoolwork.

Finally, Marriott clears his throat, peering up at her with a professional countenance. She’d thought with his confession things might change, worried that she might have to make the uncomfortable decision to reject his advances. But nothing has changed, not in his gentlemanly treatment of her or even how he looks at her. And she can’t tell if this a good or bad sign.

“I do see how well you’ve done with them, Miss Smith. John especially. And I greatly appreciate your hard work. You truly are a wonderful teacher.”

“Thank you, sir.”

As nice as it is to hear his approval on her work with the children, the unhappy expression on his face has her hands gripping together in her lap, fingers threaded through each other with sweat collecting at her palms.

“But there’s an unfortunate matter we need to discuss.”

Her jaw clenches hard, teeth grinding.

“It’s come to my attention that you have been displaying... improper behavior.”

“Sir?”

“Mrs. Lewis informed me of what happened in the parlor the other evening.” Marriott sighs, as if with regret. “She was quite disturbed.”

Anna shakes her head. “It was only a game.”

“Kissing Hester was a game?”

The walls of books steadily begin to close in around her, her breath coming out harder. The parlor had been empty, she was sure it had.

Though obviously not sure enough. Those snoopy, snobbish-

Marriott inhales deeply, leaning back in his chair, eyes watching her in an almost predatory way. And for the first time since she’s known him, she fears him.

“I can’t help but blame myself,” he says, his calm demeanor and soft tone chilling her to the core. “I did after all bring them into this house. I feel if I had given you some warning, some... idea of how crude and obscene they are. Perhaps I could’ve saved you.”

“Saved me?”

“Mr. Hall and his wife are wicked vermin. I have tried to be a good friend to them, but their boorish ways have led me to this.

The oxygen in the study seems to be thinning as she tries again and again to catch her breath.

“I’m afraid I cannot have someone, who acts as you do, around my children.”

“Sir, please,” she tries to beg, but she’s not sure anything actually comes out. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“No,” he questions accusingly, with a cruel, mocking tone. The vision of him begins to swim as her eyes water.

“So you did not force the children from their schoolroom to be alone with Mr. Hall?”

Her throat tightens as she tries to swallow. “No.”

“So John is lying, then?”

She shakes her head vigorously. “No.”

He remains silent, watching uninterested as silent tears stream down her face. “You know, he’s been quite worried about you. Tells me of bruises on your person.”

The chair creaks beneath his weight as he leans forward. “I told you to come to me, Anna.” It’s said softly, with care, but his fixed stare is sharp and cold, and the strange combination makes her cringe. “I told you I would handle it if you would come to me.”

“I truly apologize, sir. I-“

“It’s too late for that, I’m afraid.”

So this is it, she thinks. She really has ruined herself, and for what?

Shifting high in his seat, he somehow looks down on her, even though they sit directly across from each other. “You are to leave Heathside Manor by the end of the day.”

Panic tears through her. “Sir... I need time to find a new post... somewhere to go.”

“That’s not my concern anymore. _You_ are not my concern anymore.”

Her tears turn to outright sobs, and she knows she must look a mess. “Please. Please don’t do this.”

“You chose this,” he sneers, the words reminding her of a time Robert told her the same thing. Do all men insist on blaming women for their own manipulative ways? Or was it just weak men who could not stand to be disobeyed? “You chose to be lured in and defiled by this sinful couple.”

“I did not,” she fires back, tears subsiding as anger begins to show its head. Because as full of carnal lust and sweet pleasures as her moments with Robert and Hester have been, she refuses to accept them as sinful.

“And I am not a child! I can choose to be with whomever I wish.”

“Not in front of my children, and not in my house!”

Anna stands, looking down at his red face, no longer calm for appearances sake.

“Nothing was ever done in front of the children, this is not about them.”

Marriott’s lips curl up at the corners, eyes roving over her lasciviously. Ah, here is the snake, she thinks. The one she could not see, but was warned of time and time again. Has he been so good at hiding, or has she just been willfully blind? “But it was in my house. What did you do for them, Anna?”

She wants to run out, pack her things as quickly as possible and flee. But John and Mary are everything to her, and she can’t abandon them without at least telling them she’s leaving.

With a calculating ease, Marriott rises from his chair, gaze pinning her where she stands as he makes his way to her.

“Before I married, I attended quite a few... parties with Hall.” He comes so close she has no choice but to step back, forgetting the chair behind her and dropping down into it with a gasp.

Her heart begins hammering, and she searches for an escape, but stuck between Marriott’s body and the chair, she sees none.

“Parties of such depravity and sinfulness, Miss Smith, even merely speaking of things done there would cause delicate ladies to faint.”

She’s still searching, still thinking, when she begins to see the hard outline of him directly in front of her face. Unabashed horror crawls up her spine.

“But you are not a lady, are you, Anna? Not anymore.”

“Please, sir,” she whispers, barely audible.

He reaches out, hot fingers skimming down her cheek. “Yes. I like it when you say that, Anna. Say it again.”

Her eyes close, trying to reconcile the kind man she thought she knew with the one standing before her. Months ago, such a caress from this man would make her sigh, but now she’s disgusted, trying to twist her face away from his touch.

“You have to ask yourself Anna, what are you willing to do, to stay here?”

—————

Hester’s wistful look has Anna’s head dropping, not wanting to acknowledge the somberness of their parting.

“I wish you would come with us,” Hester says quietly, hand squeezing Anna’s tight, like she might just be able to drag Anna home with her.

Swallowing down her emotions, Anna offers up a sad smile. “My place is here. Besides, we should only be here for another month before we’re back in the London townhouse, and I will see you then.”

Hands cupping Anna’s face, Hester smiles. “I truly hope so.” Turning to her carriage and a reserved Robert standing nearby, she groans with abhorrence. “I hate carriages.”

Robert only grins, opening the door for her, allowing her to climb inside.

“This is why I don’t travel anywhere with you,” she chides with eyes narrowed playfully before he closes the door. Anna can hear Hester’s muffled rebukes from within, but Robert only pretends to be deaf to her.

When he looks to Anna, the amusement on his faces melts away, a shadow of regret hanging there in its stead. He licks his lips, shifting in place, he seems nervous, and in some twisted way, she enjoys it.

She waits, allowing him to say what he needs to.

“I’m truly sorry, Anna.”

Hands held behind her back, she wrings her fingers, fighting to control any emotions that might appear on her face.

She nods, solemn and true. “You’re forgiven.”

But it’s not forgotten.

After a quick inhale he returns her nod. “Goodbye.” And then he too is gone, their carriage taking them both away, and she doesn’t think she’s ever felt lonelier.

Looking back on the house, she sees Marriott standing at a window, expression furious as he glares down at her.

She returns his gaze without fear, smirking up at him as she makes her way inside.

—————

Anna is still as she stares into the beautiful face in the portrait. It hangs within the drawing room near the fireplace. If she had to guess, it was most likely recent, perhaps only five to ten years old.

The woman in it is posed seated in a bright red chair, with an impressive backdrop of an open pavilion and a large, colorful garden. The brilliance of such a vibrant setting warred with its human subject. Though gorgeous, with dainty, winsome features and blonde, up-swept hair with perfectly placed curls, her expression was one of deep sorrow. The clouds of her melancholy almost visible in her porcelain features.

“She was quite beautiful, wasn’t she,” Mrs. Flynn says, coming up beside her.

“A very handsome woman. Remind me, what was her name?”

“Eliza.” It’s said softly, almost as if not to disturb the delicate woman depicted on canvas in oils, housed in a spectacular French styled, molded gilt frame.

“She died in Bedlam?”

Mrs. Flynn’s hesitance to answer catches Anna’s attention, but the housekeeper quickly tries to cover it. Unsuccessfully.

“Yes, I believe so, Miss.”

Anna sighs, sympathy for the poor woman making her start to feel a bit melancholy as well. “Was she kind?”

Again, there’s hesitation on the housekeeper’s part. “She was... sad. And a bit self-absorbed.” Mrs. Flynn smiles ruefully. “But no more than any other lady of her station, I think.”

“This is Hester’s sister, yes?”

“Indeed. Never were their two sisters so inherently different.”

—————

Mary’s painting leaves much to be desired, the green landscape lopsided and the trees nowhere near to scale, but seeing as how Anna is no professional, she accepts the girl’s art with positivity.

“Do you think father will like it, Anna?”

An uneasiness bubbles within her at the mention of Marriott.

“Yes, poppet, I think he’ll be very pleased with your work.” She tries to sound cheerful, but these last weeks, now knowing Marriott as she does, makes it difficult. Even so, she’s had other things to occupy her time, one of which being John and Mary, the bright lights in her life she nearly lost.

John tromps up to them, face and breeches covered in dirt. Anna clicks her tongue, eyes rolling before trying to wipe away the brown smears on his cheek.

“Why do insist on getting so filthy when you know it’s only going to end up in a bath that you’ll hate.”

“It was worth it, Anna,” he replies with a wide, toothy smile.

She raises her brow with a dubious look. “Really?”

It’s then that John springs his hand from behind his back, wildflowers held in a bunch, some of them still with roots. Her strict expression melts away, unable to stop the pull at her lips.

Taking the flowers, she nods in thanks. “You’re a true gentleman, John.”

He shrugs, sitting behind his sister. With a sigh she sits beside him, making sure he sees it when she smells the blossoms, heart warming at the sight of his cheeks going pink.

“You seem happier Anna.”

She frowns, head tilted. “Did I seem unhappy before?”

“A bit,” John answers with reluctance.

“Well,” she says, smile firmly in place as she strokes his hair, “I’m sorry to have worried you.”

“It wasn’t just you, though. I didn’t like having so many strangers in the house. I’m glad they’ve all gone.”

She tugs him against her, a hard kiss placed on the crown of his blonde head. He accepts it with a groan of distaste that leaves her feeling grateful to still be here with them.

“Are you excited going back to London,” she asks as they watch Mary make more of a mess than a picture.

He nods against her shoulder. “I miss my friends.”

She remembers Robert’s words of a boy deserving to be around other boys his age. Perhaps he was right.

“Are _you_ excited, Anna?”

London, where Hester is, and Robert, too. “Yes,” she answers with reserve despite the butterflies in her stomach. “Yes, I am very excited.”


	18. Who’s Ready to Play

Anna hears the slam of the door after he enters, followed by the hard stomp of his boots. She hopes he’s in a good humor, otherwise this might not go so well.

“Sir, you have a visitor.”

A silence follows that has her stomach in knots. “A visitor?”

His voice is as smooth and posh as she remembers, each syllable heavily enunciated and precise. The sound of it has her biting her lip before she catches herself.

“A lady. She wouldn’t give her name. I’ve left her in the drawing room.”

His light chuckle echos in the entryway and carries down the hall to her. So a good mood, then.

“Are you sure this lady is here for me, and not Mrs. Hall?”

More steps until the maid stops him yet again. “No, sir, she specifically asked for you.”

She can see him in her mind’s eye, head tilting and brows furrowing in a curious line as he tries to think of who this strange caller might be. Then the doors open, and it’s a physical ache not to run up and wrap her arms around him. She tightens her shoulders against the impulse.

“Anna,” Robert questions, eyes wide with disbelief, standing suddenly straighter and frozen in place, like he’s afraid to come closer or she might disappear. There’s a long pause where neither move, and his eyes rove over her, drinking her in like a man who’d been dying of thirst.

It leaves her tongue tied, not expecting this level of emotion from him. Finally, she finds her voice, and she applauds herself internally for how it doesn’t waver in the slightest. “I’m sorry to show up without warning.”

Robert gives a friendly scoff, waving a hand as he dares to step closer. “I’d heard Marriott returned to London months ago. Hester was certain we’d never see you again.”

“I wanted to come,” she tries to explain. “It’s just... I’ve been busy.”

“Busy.” He repeats it in a way that says he doesn’t believe it, but that it was ok, she deserving whatever sort of time she needed.

“Helping John get acclimated to Eton,” she adds. It’s the truth, though John was more than happy to see her go, excited to be on his own for the first time.

A look of happy surprise crosses Robert’s face, and knowing what she does now, she’s charmed despite herself. She attempts to hide it to no avail.

“He’s gone to school, then?”

She sighs a bit melodramatically with a teasing air. “I realized that it was unfair, not allowing him to be around his peers.”

A self-satisfied grin slides across his face. “I wonder who gave you that idea?”

She returns his smile, despite its arrogance, both of them laughing together before another awkward silence is cast between them. She wishes it weren’t this way, but she’s no idea how to fix it.

“Would you like some tea,” he inquires, breaking the silence, his fingers raking nervously through his hair.

It’s such a ridiculous thing to ask, given their history. So formal. “You don’t often take visitors, do you?”

He huffs out an embarrassed laugh, blushing as he searches for relief in the rug. “Is it so obvious?”

She doesn’t answer, allowing him to come to his own conclusion. She likes this, making him be the one to feel unsure for once.

Clearing his throat, he takes a step closer. Though still too far. “Hester and I are not the most popular couple in London.”

She feigns shock at the reveal. “I can’t imagine why. You’re both so... normal.”

His dark brows raise with humor. He’s obviously starting to enjoy this game, beginning to saunter forward slowly. “Very much so.”

His eyes narrow as they sweep up and down her body in a way that makes her feel as if she’s standing bare before him. And knowing that he’s seen and touched parts of her that only his wife has before, makes her shiver at the memory of their touches.

“We, like any well-bred couple, share many similarities.” While his eyes continue to undress her, his body language becomes more confident - in control - and she, a quivering mess. “Riding, hunting, a certain frustrating little governess.”

Her chest heaves at the lack of air, her skin feeling too hot and needy after all these months without them. She needs to regain the upper hand here.

“Stop,” she commands, voice shaky but sure. And he does so immediately, at first confused before embarrassed, believing he’s read her wrong, even taking a step back. But that’s not it at all, and she tries on her own self-satisfied smirk.

She reaches into her reticule to produce a folded sheet of paper, heart thumping as she holds it up with pride.

Robert stops cold in all movements, eyes zeroing in on her ace. Not daring to believe.

He swallows hard. “What is that,” he breathes heavily.

She takes a moment to enjoy this victory, the way his hands tremble and his eyes glaze over with hope.

“A deed,” she whispers calmly, though excitement sizzles within her, “with a coat of arms, picturing an elephant.”

His jaw actually drops, lips parting as he shakes his head in pure amazement. “How...”

She shrugs with nonchalance, inhaling deep as she tries to rein in her own emotions. “You’d be amazed what one can accomplish when not being bullied into it.”

He licks his dry lips, eyes closing as if it were too much to believe. “Of course you found it.” He looks at her again and his expression as her near jumping into his arms. “You of all people. You’re brilliant.”

“Really,” she asks impishly. “I recall someone telling me I was stupid.”

He bites his tongue, scoffing at her, a mix of pride for her and humility for himself on his handsome face. “Going to torture me forever with that?”

“Oh, only whenever it gives me the upper hand.”

He breaks out into a sudden laugh, so unlike him she almost gasps. “I’m the stupid one,” he declares, “for ever thinking it of you.”

She nods cooly, accepting the apology of sorts. “And unattractive?”

He gives a sly grin. “Is me wanting to bend you over this chair and ravish you, an answer?”

She has no choice but to let the silence draw out, every step he comes closer stealing more of her ability to come up with a snarky response.

“Perhaps,” she finally responds before he can touch her. “But I have questions.”

Her body gives its own kind of sigh when Robert cups her cheek, fingers sliding into her hair until his hold on her strong, thumb caressing the soft skin in front of her ear making her shiver.

“And I will answer every single one of them with honesty,” he says, hot breath fanning across her face. He pecks lightly at the corner of her mouth, trailing his chaste kisses up her jaw and around her ear, biting the lobe gently. “While I am fucking you.”


	19. Red Sex

Robert’s not certain how else to describe it, except blissfully ecstatic. Despite his reassurances to his wife through the months, he realizes now that he didn’t actually believe Anna would come back to them. She’s young, confused, and led by a repressive society that frowns on such brazen abandonment of caution and modesty which he and Hester live by.

But now here she is, more luscious and tempting than he can remember. He maneuvers her up the stairs and into his rooms, and she responds with adorable feigned chastisements and hushed chuckles.

He makes quick work of her dress and petticoats, her clipped whines as he tugs with haste at the layers of fabric encasing her has his ardor for her rising, desperate for her in a way that has all sense lost to him. She holds tight to the post of his bed, voluptuous body jolting back in his frenzied task of unlacing her stays.

He notices the flush in her cheeks, her breath catching with a small cry every time she’s yanked at cruelly. She wants this. Wants him rough and mean, despite their history. And he wants to give it to her.

Finally, he has her in her chemise. She wears no leggings he notices, and wonders if she came here hoping for this. His naughty little governess.

He jerks her back against his chest, releasing a huff as the weight of her falls into him, leaving her off balance and compliant, just as he knows she longs to be in this moment. The lush curves of her figure yield around his taught body, making him stir.

He holds one hand under her jaw, her head immobile and where he wants it when he tears the wide neck of her chemise over her shoulder, revealing a flawless patch of skin he’s determined to mark as his. With open-mouthed kisses he leaves a wet trail until he finds the crook of her neck, teasing the delicate surface with nips before sucking harshly. She responds with a grunt, a sound that’s deep and primal, and in response he slides a hand low against her belly, driving her flush against his stiffening cock with a punishing hold, making certain that she can feel him.

“Robert,” she breathes as if in another world, eyes shut tight and panting for him.

He glides his hand a bit lower, feeling her through the thin fabric of her chemise, soaking it in her quim when he begins his aggressive ministrations over her. One of her arms flies up around his neck and behind his head, fingers sinking into his hair and clutching painfully as dull nails scratch his scalp, urging him on. She dips and moves mindlessly in his tight grasp, seeking more but not knowing how to get it. But he’s anything if not accommodating.

He walks them forward, not letting up on her abused clit. Once their knees make contact with the end of his bed he takes hold of the base of her skull, fingers digging in, and bends her over the high mattress, pressing her cheek into the opulent, silk duvet Hester insisted on during their last trip to the orient. Anna’s eyes are wide but glazed over with lust, rolling into the back of her head when he pushes himself tightly against her.

“What do you want, pet,” he asks politely though his voice churns like gravel, giving away his need for her. “Tell me.”

He begins a sweetly torturous move, rubbing slow and hard, the outline of him through his breeches fitting perfectly within the crack of her backside through her chemise. He needs to relieve them of the rest of their clothes soon or he’s going to embarrass himself.

Her fingers clutch beautifully desperate into his bedding, lips parted as she attempts to move with him. But she doesn’t answer. He’s not really certain if she can, but he wants it. More even than ravishing her begging body, he wants to hear her say it.

He lists over her, trying to get her attention, hand pressing harder into her back causing her to bounce with the mattress as he holds her hips still.

“What do you want, pet,” he repeats. And she swallows hard, shoulders held tight with tension.

“You,” she manages to moan.

As nice as that is to hear, it’s not what he’s after. He drags the hem of her chemise up, gathering it at the small of her back, revealing the full globes of her rear. After take a moment to appreciate and squeeze the bountiful flesh, his hand slips down, finding her drenched and more than ready when his finger enters her. She groans, breathy and luring, hips hitching back trying to force him deeper.

He uses his lips to caress her face, running across her eyelid and over her temple before drifting down her cheek bone to the corner of her dry lips. “What do you want me to do to you, pet?”

“Robert,” she whines, pleading.

“Tell me,” he demands softly, leaving gentle pecks around the shell of her ear, all while sliding another finger within her, exploring her depths as much as he can. “Be a good girl, and tell me what you want.”

Everything about her begins to tense, eyes clamping shut, fists balling in his sheets, her sopping cunt clenching marvelously around his fingers. “I want- I want you-“

The anticipation is heady as he works her, fingers crooked deep inside until he finds it, that spongy, treasure trove of nerves that has her jerking against the prison of his hold.

She cries out his name, loud enough for the servants to hear, but they’re used to this, he and Hester’s hobbies no secret in their house. Or around all of London, really. But the Hall’s know who their friends are, receiving delectable visits from them from time to time.

“I want- I want you to fuck me! I want you! Robert! I want you!” She says it like a wild thing, savage and demanding under the toxic influences of desperation and pleasure, spewing up like molten lava. If he’s not careful, he fears she may burn him.

But that’s all he needs, stepping away briefly to rid himself of boots, shirt, and breeches. Once naked he drags her up again, whipping her around fast enough for her to stumble before he catches her, wasting no time in removing the only item of clothing that separates them.

He kisses her hard, hands on either side of her face, forceful as he grips her. Then he suddenly breaks it, and with a hand placed squarely on her chest, pushes her onto the mattress, enjoying the site of her bouncing body.

“Move up, pet,” he instructs. She complies immediately, pushing back until her head rests on a pillow.

He watches her for a time, the sight too beautiful to not appreciate. “Open your legs for me.”

Knees bent, with trembling hands resting lightly upon her thighs, she’s like a portrait of Venus, all timid eroticism, yet she’s real and warm - and glistening for him. Her teeth catch her lip - a nasty habit of hers that he loves - as she squirms unconsciously under his gaze.

He clutches himself with sure, firm fingers, using her juices that still coat them to slicken his aching cock. Her eyes are glued to him - to his movements - watching with a sort of naive wonder, yet with all the knowledge that this is an obscene, lewd act. He can see how it makes her mouth water, her chest heaving as if she’s just run a marathon.

“I’ll have your mouth around this, pet.”

Her eyes dart up to meet his, panic gripping her girlish features. He’d smirk if he wasn’t so far gone.

“But that will be for later,” he assures. Sauntering closer, he’s sure to keep his hand slow, allowing her to take in what she’s obviously never seen. “For now, I only wish to cull your sweet flower.”

He climbs on the bed methodically, crawling to her till he hovers half over. Wrapping his hands around her hips, he roughly yanks her towards him, making her gasp, her head sliding from its comfortable spot on the feather pillow. Her hair fans out above her, messy and tangled since neither of them bothered to let it down before they began playing. But he likes it. It exhibits the rawness of their urgency to consummate what should of been long ago.

Leaning over her, he drags his tongue and lips from her navel, between her breasts, and finally ending on her collar bone giving sucking kisses across it. “Is this what you want, Anna?” He noses under her jaw, trying to stop from giving into his baser desires till he knows for certain. “Do you wish for me to take your innocence, pet?”

Her arms fold around his shoulders, hugging him close as she buries her fingers in his hair, and he can’t help the sigh that escapes him, feeling her so warm and soft and submissive underneath is feverish body.

“Yes.” She breathes it out, adrift in a sensual lethargy. “I long for you.”

He finds her lips, tongue parting them and letting her drown in the simple, languorous pleasures of a deep kiss. She’s ripped from it when he begins pushing inside, gasping into his mouth before tearing it away, breath held and body bowed tight against him.

He drops his forehead against her temple, holding back all urges to move as he lets her adjust. Perhaps he should’ve waited for Hester. Certainly another woman to whisper sweet nothings into her ear to help ease her into it would’ve been better. But she asked for him alone, wanted to share this moment with him only, just as she’d shared quite a few firsts alone with Hester. Or so his ridiculously competitive wife boasted one night as she rode him violently to completion.

He shifts slightly, and he feels more than hears her slight hiss. “It gets better, pet,” he coos with gentleness. He caresses a thumb along her forehead with a solid hand set atop the crown of it, trying to ground her.

“You’ve no idea how good you feel,” he groans, pushing deeper, her silken wrap deliciously tight. He bites back his moans as she releases clipped little cries into his ear that makes him shudder and twitch within her.

“Your sweet little cunt opening up for me. Fuck, Anna.” Until finally he’s as deep as he can go, taking a long moment to just relish the feel of her. Her nails clutch painfully into his ribs as her knees encase his thighs with a tight pressure. But then slowly he senses her body relax around him.

“You’re such a good girl, pet. So good for me, hmm?”

He starts a slow pace, every part of him giving into her as her muffled cries transform into hard puffs of air, gliding sensually past his ear making him shiver. Lifting his head, he sees her closed eyes. She looks like she’s trying hard to concentrate, to understand when she should only be feeling.

“Open your eyes,” he grunts through a thrust. She does as told, an uncertain expression there as she tries to accept these overwhelming sensations. “Look down, pet. Look down at us.”

Again, she listens, he thinks she’d most likely do just about anything he says in this moment. But the sight of him disappearing within her must shock her out of her logical mind, gasping loud and throwing her head back onto mattress.

“No- I- Mmm.” She seems to have lost all use of any language, muttering insensibly.

He presses a hard, quick kiss against her temple, thrusts coming faster. “It’s alright, pet,” he growls. “It’s alright.” She jolts with his every push, mouth slack and remaining silent, punctuated only by shaky cries every four or five strokes.

He begins fucking her like he has something to prove. He fucks her like he needs her to know just how deep his feelings for her run. He fucks her until she cums, the sticky heat of her quim rushing around his cock while her muscles grip him tight, and he has to drop his head into her sweaty hair.

He’s starting to lose his own sense, his hips driving hard, the obscene sound of it drumming in his ears. Then she raises her legs, knees bracketing his ribs and Jesus, he’s incapable of holding out much longer. He grits his teeth when she begins whispering in his ear. Moaning run on sentences that are breathless and full of filth.

“You feel so good- oh- oh- I’m your good girl- Robert- I want to be your good girl- uh-“

And he can’t continue after that, her voice and words tipping him over the edge, knocking into him like some tumultuous wave, spurting hot and furious inside her. And she accepts it all, hips canted up, soft finger brushing soothingly through his own sweaty hair.

He begins to feel her after a time, trembling as she holds him close, humming low and senseless, easing them both down from their high.

His every muscle feels like liquid. Unable to move. Unable to speak. Hardly breathe. He finds enough strength to roll off her, staring up at the decorative designs in the plaster ceiling, his eyes following the ornate lines and curves blooming into sculpted flowers.

He feels her eyes, and he turns to look at her, trying to gauge her thoughts and emotions. She’s become hard to read, he realizes, his innocent little governess. And he wonders what the hell happened to her these last few months. She blinks, then drifts towards him, expression still frustratingly unreadable before she lays her head on his shoulder, her dark hair tickling his nose.

“Was it good,” she asks with hesitance as if he wasn’t the one performing for her.

He snorts into her hair, his hand smoothing down the soft locks. “Yes, pet.”

“You’ve ruined me,” she says before he can add more. His breathing catches in his chest, hand stilling in its caress.

“Do you regret it?” He tries not to sound distraught over the very idea of it, his every muscle becoming suddenly tight.

She lifts her head, lips in a straight line and face serious. But her eyes, her eyes are bright within their chocolate depths. “Not a moment.”

The relief that washes over him comes out in a huff, grinning at her like an idiot before raising his head quick to kiss her on the end of her upturned nose. She giggles, wiping at it, then taking his jaw in her hand, fingers pressed on one side and thumb on the other, holding him still as she presses a hard kiss to his lips.

And it feels almost heavenly. Almost like he might be able to give up his debilitating need for revenge and just live a happy life with her and Hester. But the post coitus high is a tricky beast that makes you feel all manner things, and he has much work to do yet.


	20. Roué

Her head lays on his chest, fingers tracing mindless shapes across his abdomen. He watches with amusement when her fingers dare to slip beneath the sheet, never going too low, just enough to show her curiosity.

“Is it even possible for a woman to own property without being widowed?”

“No,” Robert sighs, resigning himself to talk about this. It’s been quite a few years since he’s spoken about Eliza, instead choosing to push the memory of her as far away as he could. Even Hester knew better than to bring up the subject of her sister around him.

“She cannot own it, but her son can. It’s willed to her as a life tenet until any male heirs she might have.”

She rests her chin on her hand, looking up at him, her dark eyes blazing with a need to know and understand. He doesn’t fear it as much as he once did, but still there’s that creeping doubt that if he doesn’t keep these cards held close to his chest he’ll regret it.

“But John is only a boy,” she says, forehead wrinkled adorably while she tries to work out this twisted tale. “So it would be his father that cares for the property anyways. At least until he comes of age.”

“Perhaps, under normal circumstances,” he concedes. “But Eliza and Hester’s father was not normal.” Tension begins to slither it’s way throughout him. He tries to control the seething rage in the pit of his stomach, reminding himself that Anna’s not here to hurt anyone with the past. Like always, she only ever just wants to help.

Sitting up beside his slouched form, she chuckles good-naturedly. “Like Hester, herself.”

Her smile falls when he doesn’t return it, a shadow of fear in her eyes.

“No, pet. Not like Hester.”

With a sharp inhale he rolls away, throwing the blankets from his legs and sitting on the edge, starting to feel too confined in this small room and even smaller bed.

The heavy silence lingers for a time before Anna finally breaks it, so soft and hesitant. “What happened?”

“Their mother died birthing Hester, and their father had been quite in love with his tall, blonde, winsome wife. He refused to marry again, never forgetting the wife whom he barely knew yet placed high upon a pedestal.”

He hears Anna shift behind him, trembling fingers finding his shoulder blade, calmly waiting to see if he will bite, like some sort of wild animal. And he hates that’s how she thinks of him now. After the garden, she’ll always be watching for that side of him to emerge.

He takes a heavy breath, trying to ease his mind and body.

“But, eventually, he did again find love... with his eldest daughter, who was the spitting image of the wife he’d lost.” Anna’s hand jumps away from him, her quiet gasp laced with horror.

“They even shared a name, she and her mother. Elizabeth.” He wants to turn, to see her reaction, but he’s too afraid.

“Why- It’s- How could a father do such a thing to his own child,” she questions after a few false starts, obviously in shock.

Sparks burst behind Robert’s eyelids when he rubs them forcefully, as if trying to burn out the story from his mind. “Not all people are good or even decent.”

He stands and makes his way to the decanter along the wall, pouring himself a drink. “Most are selfish.” The amber liquid burns down his throat like fire. “You should know that by now,” he says, pointing at her. He probably sounds accusing, but he doesn’t mean to. She’s just so damn naive and trusting. A proper little gentlewoman who still thinks the world is a good place with good people, and it scares the hell out of him. “Don’t ever trust anyone, pet.”

He slams back the rest of his drink, arm leaning on the fireplace as his mind begins to wander dangerously. He doesn’t hear her leave the bed, nor even pad across the room to stand in front of him, proud with her shoulders back and chin high, naked as the day she was born. And he feels his want for her rousing him again, despite the dark tale that’s colored their surroundings.

“I know the world,” she assures, hand raising to let her cool fingers graze soothingly down his overheated body. “You forget that I have lived a life before I met you, and it’s never been easy.”

He tucks his chin into his chest, a bit ashamed if he’s honest. “No, I don’t suppose it was.” Then her lithe fingers take him gently, wrapping around his partially erect cock that’s soon to begin swelling at her touch. “Anna.”

“There are bad people in the world,” she says, coming close enough for him to smell the sweat and sex that lingers on her. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t hope for good.”

The backs of his fingers caress her cheek, feeling the warmth of her flush as the blood pools there. “Such an agreeable, idealistic girl.”

“I’m not a child,” she insists with a calm demeanor that proves it.

Perhaps not, though there’s still an intoxicating mix of innocence and knowing there, her face still a bit round with childhood, just starting to show the sharp edges of womanly cheekbones.

“No you’re not. Not anymore. But that might make this world even more dangerous for you.” With a hard swallow, he sets his hand over hers, showing her what to do, how to pleasure him. Its a lesson with few words, except for a few shy questions on her part, and a few corrections and assurances on his.

“You said you wanted my mouth on it.”

His pet has become so bold. He can’t help but laugh. “Eager, are you?”

Anna kneels, taking her time, eyes never leaving his on her journey down. He releases a tremulous sigh, trying to gain control of himself.

“Curious,” she corrects. She lists forward, glancing between him and his cock, and gives its head a messy, open-mouthed kiss.

Licking his lips, his fingers card through her dark hair, gathering it behind her head, wanting to watch her do this.

When she pulls away she gives a coy smile along with a shrug. Oh she is a very naughty governess, indeed. “But I also enjoy keeping you on your toes, sir.”

“Do you,” he questions strictly, using the grip he has on her hair to yank her head back, her pink lips, which he’s about to fuck, part with a gasp. “Do I need to remind you who’s in charge, pet?”

She drags nails down his thighs and he knows he’s lost to her. “Of course not, sir. I’m your good girl, I swear. I still need you to teach me.”

Running her palm back up his thigh, she touches him again, though this time it’s all hesitance and uncertainty. Robert releases his hold on her, combing through the strands and pushing them behind her ear, and she purrs in contentment at having pleased him.

But she truly is unsure, he realizes, for all her bluster. His sweet pet. But his swelling cock is all she needs to bolster her confidence, body scooting closer. He can’t help but hiss as he rests an arm on the nearby mantlepiece, already enjoying this entirely too much, and she’s barely put her mouth on him.

Her big brown eyes are round, examining him with reverence while she handles him with such care. Her hand slides slowly up from the base toward the head, warm and dry and gentle.

“It feels lovely, pet,” Robert encourages as his tip beads with precum, and her eyes spark with curiosity.

“It gets wet too,” she says with a bit of awe. She touches it lightly with a swipe of her thumb, smearing it around, making him grunt. She doesn’t even seem to hear him, invested as she is in this new experience. She’s such an earnest, attentive girl, playing unselfconsciously with his cock, and he thinks he may just die right here and now.

When more precum blurts up she shuffles closer on her knees, hazily he thinks how he should’ve warned her to get a pillow before they began, but the thought all but disappears the moment she leans forward and kitten licks across the slit.

She makes a face, nose wrinkling and making him chuckle. He pets the back of her head fondly, having the sudden urge to kiss her. He’ll save that for later. Encouraged by his happiness, she leans in again, this time licking up the side with a flat, hard stroke of her tongue from base to tip, before experimenting with swirling around the head and feather light tickles across the underside.

“You’re doing very well, pet. Such a good girl.” She coos as she trails kisses along the length of him, cheeks flaming at his praise. “Such a sweet mouth, so eager to please me.” His sharp eyes notice her wriggling body, thighs pressing together hard, trying to ease the ache that’s surely building there.

She licks broad and wet on his underside, face tilting up as she does so, showing off her chin, slick and shiny with spit, and he resists the clawing urge to well and truly fuck her mouth. He doesn’t want to scare her, and besides, he’s rather enjoying this little learning session. It’s definitely making this one of the more erotic times anyone’s ever done this.

Finally, she closes her lips around him, red and glistening, the head of him lost in the heavenly wet heat of her mouth. “Fuck, Anna.”

As wonderful as it feels, Robert can see how unsure she is with this new experience, not doing much of anything except sliding the rough smooth of her tongue against him.

“Suck on it, pet,” he directs, “but be careful with your teeth.”

Anna tries, the fluttering draw around him nearly undoing him. But it’s only after a few more times she remembers she can move her tongue as well, alternating between them. The soft pulses of her mouth are enough to strain the tenuous grip he has on himself, nearly snapping. With a deep swallow he drops his head back, his thumb caressing the crown of her head.

“So good, Anna. It gets easier, pet. Just get used to it.”

She does, adjusting to the thick mouthful, experimenting more and more, and slipping lower as she goes. He continues to praise her, pet her, enjoying the contented little sounds she hums around his cock.

He doesn’t have much more left in him, not at all prepared for the sight and feel of his little governess with her wet mouth around him like he thought he was.

“Up and down, pet,” he orders breathless, fingers grasping her hair as he begins to slowly pull her back before sliding her back down, watching hungrily as the length of him disappears past her lips. He forces her down a little deeper each time until he feels her gag-reflex, letting up to allow her to breathe.

But she’s only gone for a moment before she’s on him again, sucking hard and letting him use her mouth as he wishes, his hips pumping as he holds her head. He’s close, and his mind is a bit fuzzy, but even so, he tries not to choke her. But it’s those last desperate thrusts that leave her gagging, squeaking around his cock in surprise.

She’s able to keep most of his cum in her mouth, a bit of it dribbling out the corners and down her chin, and then she’s pulling off of him with a gasp, chest heaving as she licks at her lips. Sitting back on her heels, she grins up at him, chest and face pink with exertion, lips and chin shiny with saliva and cum. So indecent and obscene and fucking beautiful. He wishes Hester were here to see it.

Anna wipes at her chin, turning down with a shy, embarrassed smile. But that just won’t do. With a hand under her chin, he raises her eyes to his. “That was wonderful, Anna.”

She releases a nervous giggle and he bends over, kissing her hard and deep, tasting himself in her mouth. Her needy groan vibrates through him, and he thinks this is the perfect time to reward her for such a perfect performance.

Before he can return her to the bed however, they’re both broken from their lust filled daze by a slam of a door from down the stairs.

“What was that,” Anna questions. He doesn’t miss the sudden jump of fear in her voice, her hand grabbing for his wrist.

“That,” he starts with a foolish grin, “would be Hester.”


End file.
